Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic
by Eversotd
Summary: My take on the 3rd Aladdin movie. Desdane returns for revenge and Mozenrath has no choice but to ally with Aladdin and company to battle for all that is. Desdane gathers all of Aladdin's enemies into one army, while Aladdin teams up with allies old and new (Sadira, Genie, etc). Shadows from Al's past add to the tension, while Cassim searches for Aladdin and his brother.
1. Chapter 1: Nightmare

**A/N: **Hello all; I'm currently writing an Avengers fanfic as well, but have recently rediscovered my love for the "Aladdin" TV series…that is off the air. Boo! But, it's still on YouTube, which is AWESOME! Anyhow, I was REALLY sad that they didn't have Mozenrath in the 3rd movie, and so this will be my AU re-write of that movie. But, no worries, while the general idea of the movie will be the same, there will be new plot twists, etc., so you're not gonna just read the movie all over again + Mozenrath. LOL; anyhow, for the rest, plz keep going. Onward! Psst, if you liked the Avengers movie, I'd love your input on my other fic. Thanks in advance. Here we go!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 1-Nightmare_

Aladdin hadn't dreamt it in many years, not since his mother's death; but tonight, the nightmare found him again.

He remembered it well; he was three, and it had been on a blessedly cool night. He had just been put to bed by his mother; his father had just arrived home after working late in the market and his elder brother, Farid, was upstairs, reading by lamplight.

He remembered just before his mother had whisked him away for sleep, his brother, who was only two years his elder, called his name from upstairs.

"See, little brother?" Farid had showed him a book, open to a page about genies.

"What that?" Aladdin had asked, just learning to form sentences; the pictures he saw were beautiful though. A colorful person appearing from the spout of a golden lamp.

"A genie; if you find one, they'll grant you three wishes—of anything you want!"

Aladdin smiled in his sleep; he found out later on in life that no, even genies could not grant anything. His friend, Genie, couldn't kill, or resurrect the dead, or make anyone fall in love unwillingly; but Farid, for the most part, had been right.

"What you wish?" Aladdin had asked, touching the rose-colored genie on the page. He was big, muscular and had donned a single golden earring. Twin gold bracelets were upon his wrists-shackles, Aladdin had realized years later, after he'd freed Genie.

He remembered Farid blinking at that; clearly he hadn't thought about it. His black curls swished as he thoughtfully tipped his head to one side; his very dark eyes narrowed in concentration.

"I don't know. Maybe that we'd be wealthy so father wouldn't have to work so much; or to always be happy."

"That we alwiz be t'gether!" Aladdin put in.

Farid laughed at that; Aladdin remembered how he had loved his brother's laugh. It was gentle and always felt so nice on his ears. He reached over the book and tousled Aladdin's wavy hair.

"Yes, that we'll always be together," he at length agreed, smiling with his perfect white teeth.

Aladdin moaned in his sleep; he turned to one side in the bed, unconsciously kicking off the covers.

Their mutual wish had not come to pass though; in fact, it was killed that very night.

Aladdin had been put to bed; his mother, whose long curly hair always fell over her cheeks when she bent to kiss him goodnight, was soft and smelled like jasmine. He had left Farid upstairs, who if their mother did not fetch him, usually fell asleep on his books.

"Fa'rd love books."

"Yes, darling, he does. Good night."

"'Night, M'my."

The night was starless; the city quieted with slumber. Aladdin heard his mother putting things away as he drifted off. Vaguely, he heard his father come home, his voice greeting Aladdin's mother and he heard the tell-tale sound of a kiss, but he was too far asleep to want to wake now.

"Where's Farid?"

"Upstairs, reading."

"One day, love, if you don't make him go to bed, he's going to leave a lamp burning and burn our house down." His voice sounded too light to be serious though.

Aladdin heard his mother laugh, though it felt far away somehow. He fell deeper into sleep.

Then it struck.

_Something_… hit their house. Aladdin couldn't remember what time it was, only that it was late, and he had awoken to the house shaking and their parents screaming and calling out to him and Farid.

Aladdin remembered snapping awake, screaming, and his mother tearing through the doorway, her eyes wild, and was at his side in the next minute. She scooped him up; he was sobbing, and she rocked him back and forth.

"It's all right, my love, it's all right," she repeated over and over.

"Where da? Where Fa'rd?"

"They'll be here."

Aladdin craned his next to see Father propel himself up the stairs hollering Farid's name.

A minute or so passed. The quaking stopped. Outside, Aladdin could hear neighbors checking on each other. They lived in a good area, he felt safe.

Or he had, until now.

Why didn't he hear Farid? He heard his father call for him again and again.

His mother tightened her hold on him. He looked up to see her face pale; she began to tremble. He was too young to understand, but later in life he wondered at the fearful _knowing_ in her face.

"Cassim?" she called, her voice shaking. "Did you find Farid?"

There was the pounding of feet as their father came down. He bolted into Aladdin's room; his face was etched in panic.

"Farid? Is he in here?"

Aladdin's mother tensed. "N…no." Another tremble. "He's not upstairs?"

Cassim shook his head, panting. "There's a huge hole blasted through our west wall…Farid is gone, Bashirah."

Bashirah clutched Aladdin, sobbing, then in the next moment broke away and tore up the stairs.

"Farid! Farid, answer me!" she wailed.

Aladdin darted past his father, following his mother up the stairs.

When he reached the sitting room where his brother had shown him the book of magic creatures, he froze, his eyes locked onto the west wall.

A massive hole gaped back at him, showing the first rays of dawn peeking over the cityscape. It was very cold in the room, making him shiver. Rubble was scattered everywhere, but Aladdin caught sight of Farid's book under a rock pile; one corner peering out.

He pulled out the book as his father came back upstairs. His mother was weeping as she sought Farid under every piece of furniture and behind the curtains. "No, no it can't be," he heard her whisper between sobs.

Cassim took the book from Aladdin, and the boy didn't understand why he paled when he looked at it. It wasn't until years later Aladdin remembered the blood spattered on the pages.

Cassim's face was empty of color as his showed the book to his wife. She fell to her knees, crying loudly. He clutched her as she hunched over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Aladdin felt tears well up. "Where Fa'rd?" he whispered.

His father looked back at him, grim, but eyes steeled. "I'm going to find him," he said.

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"Aladdin! Aladdin, wake up!"

Aladdin moaned and hollered before bolting up in bed. He found himself face to face with a young woman whose wavy onyx hair fell past the small of her back. Her large cinnamon eyes were filled with concern.

"Jasmine," he gasped, and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm all right."

"You were yelling. I could hear you all the way down the hall."

"I was having a nightmare." He kept his eyes on the ornate bed covers, now piled mostly at the foot of the bed and forced his voice to be as non-chalant as possible. He chanced a glance up.

Jasmine's face clearly said she was having none of it.

Aladdin sighed, and pulled his feet to his stomach and then turned his body and let them find the floor so he was sitting beside his fiancée.

"You never have nightmares, Aladdin, which is strange, actually, when you think about it."

Aladdin grimaced-strange indeed. They'd fought sirens, a snake-monster, feline immortals, sorcerers like Jafar and Mozenrath; the undead, yet more monsters…and yeah, she made an excellent point.

He ought to have nightmares daily; maybe he was just crazy, he thought.

"It was about my brother," he said at length, looking across the large room where an open doorway led to a marble balcony. Stars winked at him from behind sheer draperies.

Jasmine touched his shoulder. "I didn't know you had a brother," she confessed gently.

"He died…a long time ago." Aladdin put his head down. "I was only three. He was five."

"I'm so sorry."

Aladdin smiled at the sincerity in her voice. He forced a small smile and nodded. Taking her hand, he enclosed it in both of his. It was warm and soft…he smiled at her again, feeling the dream's affect drain away in the face of her nearness.

"I've got something to show you," he said finally, after staring at her for a full minute. He released her hand, got up and strode to a desk between the bed and doorway. It was carved cedar, embellished with gold. He pulled open the large, center drawer and took out a decorated box of darker wood, varnished and brought it to Jasmine.

"This and one other thing are all that I have of my family," he told her, his face solemn, and opened the box.

Inside was a ceremonial knife; it's scabbard and hilt were covered in fine gold, and it was encrusted with a variety of jewels. Being a princess, Jasmine could tell the gems were of the highest cut and quality. He unsheathed the blade, keeping the point aimed at him, so his betrothed could examine the blade itself.

"It's lovely," Jasmine declared, "and obviously very well crafted. Was it…?"

"My father's," Aladdin supplied. "I have something of Farid's…my brother," he said at Jasmine's questioning face, "but it's…back at my place. I brought this here because I was thinking of wearing it for the wedding."

Jasmine took his arm. "You should, it will be like having your family there, in spirit."  
Aladdin smiled, but it was sad. "Maybe they will be."

Jasmine nodded with confidence. "I'm sure they'll be there."

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**A/N: **Well, that's it for now; more to come! I hope you liked! Plz don't be shy; let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2: Onyx Gate

**A/N: **Wow; 20 views in just the first day!? Cool! Anyways, no reviews yet…but that means no negative feedback too, lol! Anyhow, here's chapter two, hope you like! Plz leave a review and let me know your thoughts…they do matter to me!

_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 2: the Onyx Gate_

"It is my greatest work yet, Xerxes."

Mozenrath, Lord of the Black Sand, stood in a cavernous chamber, one of his many labs, before an immense relic. Hovering in the air near his shoulder, a greyish creature, resembling an eel, stared at it in gleeful wonder, his tail swishing back and forth in excitement.

"What greatest work do, master?"

Mozenrath snickered, flexing his one hand, covered in a copper colored gauntlet, the source of much of his power. "This, Xerxes, is the Onyx Gate…a portal to other dimensions."

Xerxes stilled at that, and swallowed. He took in the massive arch-shaped stone that reared up against one of the chamber's longer walls. Nearby, a lit fireplace splashed citrine light throughout the high-ceilinged room…the only sound for a few moments was the crackling of wood.

"Well, Xerxes, what do you think of my find?" his voice was curious…but Xerxes caught the hint of potential anger lurking beneath.

"What need portal for, master?" Xerxes hedged instead.

Mozenrath chuckled at that. He moved towards an oval-shaped, full length mirror which was perched between the Gate and a tall window which showed a glimmer of light on the distant horizon. The light never reached their kingdom though, not fully; the Land of the Black Sand had been plunged in nearly perpetual darkness since its previous ruler, Lord Desdane, had cursed the sky with eternal blackness.

Xerxes' master touched the mirror with his ungloved hand; his alabaster skin made an apricot color by the fire. "As you know, Xerxes, reality is fluidic in nature; the various dimensions revolve and rotate around each other, always in motion…but there are times when two realities will draw very close to each other," his dark eyes flashed with purpose, "sometimes, very distant universes will come close enough to ours to make a bridge possible—if one has the magic potency to create such a bridge."

Xerxes nodded; yes, he knew all that. "But…what world you open gate to, master?" he couldn't conceal the hesitance from his scratchy voice.

Mozenrath looked at him and smiled, his lean face showing he knew all too well the reason for his servant's lack of enthusiasm. "Never fear, Xerxes, I seek allies, not victims."

Xerxes' body relaxed at that. "Xerxes know that, master." And, he did…he still wanted to _hear_ the magician say it though.

Mozenrath turned, his blue cape, trimmed with black and gold, swished at the movement. "This gate, Xerxes, will open a doorway to a world that has not drawn near to ours in several millennia…the Kingdom of Alvetira."

Xerxes gaped. "Kingdom of…wraiths?"

Mozenrath saw his amazed expression, and it only lit his face more. The ruby in his turban glinted against the fire as he gestured dramatically. "Think of it, Xerxes: an entire world of wraith-warriors at my command; an army that cannot be harmed by mortal weapons…and therefore cannot be destroyed. What kingdom in this world could oppose such power?"

Xerxes didn't blink. "Aladdin-kingdom."

He blinked after; he hadn't _intended_ to say it aloud…and waited for his master to rage. Aladdin was a touchy subject.

But…Mozenrath only grinned, revealing his perfect teeth. "Exactly, Xerxes."

The magical 'eel' looked confused.

The sorcerer moved closer to the mirror, which now reflected his lean face, and stray curls of jet black hair that his ornate head covering did not conceal. His grin had melted into a much darker expression.

"Aladdin and his pathetic band of 'heroes' will no doubt race to the fore to stop me," Mozenrath declared, his elegant voice low and filled with knowing, "but…when they do, even their pet genie won't be able to stop me. This time, Xerxes…the Seven Deserts will be ours."

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Aladdin thought again of the endless array of foes he and his friends and fought over the years; before and after meeting his incredible bride-to-be…and wondered then how _this_ could terrify him so?

He stood beside the sultan, a shorter man with white hair and beard who seemed to know nothing else except how to be cheerful and smiling. Aladdin at times envied his future father-in-law that; the sultan bore the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, yet seemed to enjoy life more than any other person Aladdin had ever known.

_Well, other than Genie anyways_, Aladdin amended, grinning to himself.

But he felt the pit return to his stomach when he lifted his brown eyes again to take in the seemingly endless line of dignitaries, royals, nobles, ambassadors, and so forth lined up before him. The entourage began at the palace's main doors…and stretched, vanishing somewhere in the city below.

Aladdin gulped; his cream-colored silk robes, turban and cape suddenly even more scratchy and uncomfortable.

He had practiced long and hard; the correct type of greeting for a sultana versus an ambassador; how to bow, the proper tone of voice, proper body language and poise…and yet he still felt like a dirty street rat that was dressed as a prince.

Another royal family passed by them after he and sultan had finished the required diplomatic dance. Aladdin repressed a sigh; another group of guests he'd not embarrassed himself, or Jasmine and her father in front of. Phew.

"Now, my boy," sultan whispered, leaning closer to him, "calm yourself. These people don't bite; most of them are old friends."

Aladdin looked into the sultan's infinitely kind eyes; they were very aware, too aware, of how Aladdin was feeling.

"Were you ever nervous?" Aladdin couldn't help but ask.

"Of course!" sultan murmured incredulously, his eyes widening as though saying that should be obvious, "but it gets easier over time; practice my boy, that's the key. Pretty soon you'll be able to do this in your sleep."

Somehow that last part wasn't very comforting. They turned to greet the next arrivals.

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The Onyx Gate glistened, and strange whispers echoed from it as Mozenrath completed his incantations. Xerxes couldn't ignore the creeping feeling of dread though, as he watched. His eyes, one rose, one black, narrowed suspiciously. Most of his magic was long gone; but enough lingered inside of him that something felt…off.

The enormous arch, made of a single onyx stone, hence its name, seemed alive in a way as Mozenrath invoked his magic over it. Ribbons of silvery light moved over and within the rock, Xerxes couldn't help but think of two dancers, moving in perfect sync: his master, and the powerful relic.

Finally, as the very distant horizon shone a bright gold, signaling dawn had finally arrived—somewhere in another kingdom, though never in this realm—Mozenrath lowered his hands; and sighed in gratification.

"It's ready, Xerxes…now me must only wait."

"Something wrong, master." Xerxes couldn't stop himself from saying it.

Mozenrath turned, slowly; the threat obvious in his dark eyes. "Oh?"

Xerxes twitched his tail with uncertainty. "Something not feel right."

Mozenrath straightened. His anger was still reigned in, but his servant could see it bubbling up. "And where does this 'not feeling right' stem from, do you think?"

Xerxes knew better than to say the Gate; so he hedged again. "Not sure. We use mirror to check?"

He watched in concealed relief as his master's shoulders lowered; good, his anger was abated then. Xerxes had seen—and experienced—his master's fury enough times to not want to do so again…ever.

"Very well, Xerxes," Mozenrath avowed, with _noblesse oblige_, "we should check on our heroes anyways." He moved gracefully back to the large gilt mirror. "Knowing Aladdin, he'll probably be dangling over the mouth of some monstrous beast as we speak!" He snickered as he commanded the mirror to show them Agrabah.

Xerxes chuckled too; happy his master was still in good temper, and repeated "Monstrous beast, monstrous beast." He flew slowly over to his master, and rested on his shoulder.

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Over the sultan and his daughter's future husband, two figures watched the proceedings below: a crimson colored parrot and tan colored monkey wearing a vest and hat. The carved window they stood in offered a perfect view to the enormous body of guests coming in…and the treasure caravans that followed them: gifts for the bride and groom.

"I'm telling you, monkey, Aladdin's gonna need a lot of help to 'manage' all that wealth."

Abu humped at that, and retorted in his just barely discernible language, "No need from you."

Iago fluffed indignantly at that. "Let me tell you, flea bag, I've—"

The sound of shouts and things crashing erupted below them. Their gazes riveted downwards.

Aladdin had stepped forward to shake hands with a noble, tripped on his long cape…and went tumbling down the stairs. They watched as two noblemen helped him up.

Iago sighed and rolled his eyes. Abu covered his face in dismay.

"As I was saying, flea boy, Aladdin needs all the help he can get."

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Mozenrath sighed and lifted his gaze to the vaulted ceiling. "That's our hero, Xerxes," he said dryly.

Xerxes snickered, rocking his body side to side in the air. "Hero looks nervous."

"Yes, he does, doesn't he?" Mozenrath's voice was silken with amusement. "Well,…" he drawled off as they watched two guards race up to the sultan and Aladdin, panting heavily.

"Ugh," Mozenrath groaned angrily, "this had better not be what I think it is."

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"What!? What is it, Razoul?" sultan demanded, his face worried.

"My sultan," Razoul, a very large and muscular guard managed between gasps for breath, "we just received word, a ship that was scheduled to dock at the river two hours ago has been captured. The guests aboard are being held hostage."

Sultan started. "What!? By whom?!"

Razoul shook his turbaned head. "We don't know. Our spies cannot uncover this."

Aladdin felt his body go rigid. "A ship? Was it taken before reaching a dock? Anywhere?"

Razoul nodded.

"It's still over what then." Aladdin knew who could, and would do this.

"Aladdin?" sultan asked.

"Where is the ship now?" Aladdin asked with urgency. Razoul gave him the approximate location.

Aladdin looked up to the sky and whistled. Instantly, an ornate carpet flew out of the window Iago and Abu had been watching from, both of them aboard. It stopped beside Aladdin; most of the guests gasped in wonder, and started talking among themselves.

"Don't worry sultan, we'll take care of this," Aladdin said, his voice thick with determination.

"Not without us," Jasmine's voice said from behind them. The four men turned to see the princess walking towards them, a tall, blue man with a jovial face and single gold earring beside her.

"Genie, we're gonna need you," Aladdin said, and Jasmine frowned at what he wasn't saying.

"And me," she retorted, "I'm the bride and these are my guests too."

Aladdin looked to sultan; it wasn't that he doubted Jasmine, far from it…but putting them both in danger like this. He knew who they were facing—and she _hated_ Jasmine, desperately.

"It's Saleen, Jasmine."

"Well of course it is," Jasmine came back, her hands now on her hips, "which is why I'm going. I can't get married tomorrow if my groom gets captured today, now can I?"

None of the men had anything to say to that.

"Oh, don't worry, Al," Genie said, "it's only Saleen, it's not like anyone else will be showing up."

As they all got aboard Carpet, and sultan warned them to be careful, that pit returned again to Aladdin's stomach.

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"Heroes are so inconsiderate, Xerxes," Mozenrath said flatly, his arms folded.

"Inconsiderate," Xerxes murmured, shaking his head.

Mozenrath spun from the mirror, and waved his arms in frustration, "You work hard, make elaborate plans, give up nights of sleep, strive to craft the perfect plan to destroy your enemies…and do they show proper gratitude? No." his arms dropped, annoyed. "They _instead _rush off to be destroyed by _someone else_."

"Inconsiderate," Xerxes repeated.

Mozenrath let out a short, angry breath and straightened to his full, tall stature. "Well," he said his voice suddenly calm, "I guess we'll just have to rescue the heroes…if we want to destroy them ourselves."

Xerxes sniggered at the irony. "Save heroes, heroes be amazed."

Mozenrath chuckled. "That'll make it all the better, Xerxes." He waved an arm, and they vanished in a flash of blue light and cloud of sapphire flame.

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The large ship was caught between two rocks jutting from the ocean depths. The captain had just said they were only two hours from port…and then the water below them had suddenly…_given way_…and the rocks had appeared.

They were aground. And helpless.

While a huge octopus menaced the guests with his massive tentacles, a lone spout of water nearby simply shot towards the sky, about eight feet tall; atop it, a mermaid sat, not at all ruffled by the cries for help and screams of panic that ceaselessly came from the vessel.

Saleen filed her nails quite calm and content with a tiny sea cucumber; her lavish red-orange hair perfectly quaffed, her tangerine tail swaying lazily back and forth. She hummed to herself and glanced at her servant, Armond, who seemed quite content to entertain himself with the guests.

She yawned, patting a hand against her full lips. She knew her makeup was flawless, she had already checked it. After all, she was expecting company; she wanted to look her best.

Not that she could ever look anything else, mind you.

"Now," she said to no one in particular, if I know Aladdin, he should be making his dramatic entrance, in 3…2…1-"

"Saleen!"

"Ah!" she exclaimed with a clap of her hands, "I do love a man who's punctual."

She turned on her makeshift 'seat' just as Aladdin and his "team" came plunging at her on their flying rug. Casually, she flicked her hand, and a monolithic tsunami came from nowhere…and engulfed them.

She laughed merrily, clutching her very slender waist. "Oh, but you make it too easy, Aladdin."

But, suddenly, a huge blue-colored whale with a black mustache and beard rose from the depths and opened his mouth. Out came the heroes again, and Aladdin leapt from the carpet, tackling Saleen.

"Oomph!"

Jasmine meanwhile dropped onto the ship and pulled out her whip. A couple snaps of it later and Armond got the idea. Iago perched on the rail, calling out encouragement to Aladdin as he wrestled Saleen on the nearby beach.

Aladdin pinned her against a dune. "It's over Saleen," he shouted, "let the hostages go."

Saleen chuckled. "I think not, my sweet; you're not leaving…and neither are they." She flicked her wrist.

Water spears flew from the depths around the ship, hovering thickly around the guests. Aladdin froze.

Seven surrounded Jasmine. She dropped her whip, frozen.

Saleen didn't break free from Aladdin; in fact, she seemed to be enjoying the closeness. "Now then, my dear Aladdin; you can either surrender and agree to stay here with me,…or…." She let the sentence hang.

Aladdin looked desperately to Genie.

"One move from your Genie and your guests get it," Saleen declared harshly, seeing where his gaze was, "even he won't be able to save all of them."

Genie gestured helplessly; saying she was right.

Aladdin turned back to the mermaid, who had grown legs once they hit the sand; he released his grip on her arms. "All right, Saleen, what do you want to let them go?"

Saleen smoothed her hair and preened. She pulled a little bottle from a sleeve that had been part of the gold and tangerine garb that had appeared with her legs.

Aladdin heard his friends on the ship call out for him to not listen. He kept his eyes, now hard, on the mermaid.

"This, my pet, is a potion that will change you back into a sea creature," she cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice, "if you agree to drink it and agree to stay with me forever, I'll let your pathetic little ship go…and everyone aboard it."

Aladdin looked at the glass bottle, glinting in the full sun; he repressed a shudder, recalling what it was like to be at Saleen's mercy—she didn't have any.

Seeing his hesitation, she added with mock indifference, "Or, I could impale them all now and let you go back to Agrabah and tell the sultan and all his guests that his daughter was mutilated because you wouldn't save her."

"Don't Aladdin!" Jasmine screamed, "Don't listen to her!"

Aladdin took the bottle. His friends called out louder, desperate for him not to do it. Even Iago, Aladdin realized with the tiniest of smirks, was begging him to not drink the potion.

He had no choice though; he raised the bottle to his lips-

And it dissolved in his hand.

"What!" Saleen screamed.

Around the ship, the spears all evaporated. The guests cheered and leapt for joy.

Saleen let out an enraged snarl and spun towards Genie—who was looking around in bafflement. "Who was it Al?" he called to the boy.

Aladdin opened his mouth to say he didn't know when a snide voice cut in: "Why me of _course_."

A vortex of inky blue fire erupted near and over Saleen and Aladdin; vanishing-

-and leaving Mozenrath and Xerxes hovering in air in its stead.

"Mozenrath!" Aladdin shouted in shock.

Mozenrath found he couldn't help himself. "Guilty," he replied with a snicker, and Aladdin remembered the last time he had said that…when he was stuck in Mozenrath's black-ink-prison.

"I see you're in another 'sticky' situation Aladdin," Mozenrath drawled, as if reading the other's mind, "you have to be the most ungrateful hero I've ever met."

Aladdin started, lost to his meaning, but before he could say anything, Mozenrath lazily lifted his bare hand, and shot a pillar of blue fire at Saleen. She went flying with a yell.

Instantly, Armond was there, hurling himself at the boy wizard; Mozenrath didn't even look at him, but flicked his other hand over his shoulder. Another pillar of fire…but this one engulfed the octopus.

"Armond!" Saleen wailed, sprawled on the sand.

The fire melted away…and instead of an octopus, a tiny round sea cucumber with eyes that were distinctly Armond's peered at her helplessly, as it lay on the sand.

Saleen launched to her feet. "You won't interfere…whoever you are," she snarled, shaking a fist at him; she gestured to the water, and the waves rose.

Mozenrath only laughed at her; but Aladdin was amazed to realize it wasn't his 'evil' laugh, but the other that he only had heard once before…it was his laugh of genuine humor. Aladdin hadn't heard it since when the wizard had trapped them all in the Otherworld of the Black Sand.

"_Princess Jasmine of course made for such a delightful victim. When she was swallowed by the sand, she let out the most…blood curdling scream…." _

And he'd laughed after that, Aladdin hadn't realized it's lack of malice until after they had won and Mozenrath was trapped in his own Otherworld.

"In case you haven't noticed," Mozenrath said in a low, threatening voice that brought Aladdin back to himself, "I already have."

"Already have! Already have!" Xerxes put in.

Saleen growled at that, clenching her fists. "I am Saleen, Siren of the Seven Seas-" she declared furiously-

"Oh, is that why you're so shriveled?" Mozenrath snarked, cutting her off, "from the water?" he glanced carelessly at Xerxes, "and here I thought it was just age."

Aladdin and company froze in shock at that. Saleen's vanity was legendary…and mocking it—

With a howl of rage, Saleen sent tidal wave after tidal wave at Mozenrath. He merely laughed again and evaporated them just as they came within a hair's breadth of deluging him.

It was hard to decide who was howling louder: Saleen or the behemoth waves. They rose so high they blotted out the sun; they were terrifying…and beautiful, glimmering like walls of glass or crystal. Aladdin was at a loss of what to do till Genie poofed in beside him.

"Aladdin, we need to get these people to safety."

Aladdin snapped back to it; shaking himself. "I know…can you teleport the ship to Agrabah?"

Genie caught the question. "Me? What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," Aladdin managed as he watched the two magic-workers fight. No…he realized…it wasn't a fight. Mozenrath clearly wasn't trying…he was toying with Saleen.

"I don't know if Mozenrath realizes how dangerous Saleen can be," Aladdin answered at length, "what if she gets the upper hand. If looks could kill…" he gestured at the mermaid, her eyes aflame and her beautiful face twisted in a mask of un-tempered fury.

Mozenrath resolved the issue though; apparently he'd gotten bored with this game, one loose gesture later, the water turned on its ruler, and encapsulated all but her head in a block of enchanted ice.

"You think this will hold me, wizard?"

Mozenrath sniggered, "I think, hag, it's the only thing that would want to."

In the distance, Iago's sputter of laughter was heard, followed by a smack and "Ow! Oh come _on_! He's right about that."

"I'll get you for this!" Saleen swore, struggling against the glossy prison. "There's no place you'll be able to escape from me!"

Mozenrath gave her a thoroughly bored stare. "What a dreadful thought," he said in a deadpan voice, "you mean to say I might have to actually look at you again someday!"

"Blah!" Xerxes put in, his tongue hanging out in distaste.

Mozenrath patted the top of his head. "I think Xerxes said it plainly enough." He pulled out a clump of something black from a pocket. "But, for every problem…there is a solution." He eyed Saleen, his gaze now chilling. She glared back, whispering and Aladdin realized she was trying to get her Elemental powers to overwhelm Mozenrath's enchantment.

He knew it wouldn't work; Elemental or not, Mozenrath was a powerful sorcerer. Mozenrath snickered at her efforts.

"Your pathetic water powers are no match for me," he coldly said, "and you…are a problem." He straightened, "and I'm the solution." He opened his hand. Aladdin's eyes widened.

Black Sand. He had seen that in action before. He'd felt it in action before.

Without preamble, Mozenrath blew on the sand, and it eagerly flew at Saleen. With a hissing sound, it wrapped around her and swallowed her whole into a pit it formed beneath her feet. She screamed as she vanished into it.

Mozenrath turned nonchalantly to the Armond-cumber and waved his hand. A ball of blue light formed around him. Mozenrath flung him into the pit as well. After it took Armond; Mozenrath waved his hand again; the pit vanished.

Aladdin and Genie traded bewildered glances. "Why did Wiz-kid save us?" Genie asked under his breath, leaning towards Aladdin.

Mozenrath gave a lazy stretch, as though he had just finished a brisk jog, not a battle.

"Well, someone had to," the boy wizard dryly replied, turning to them.

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**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter as much as I did writing it! Mozenrath is always a TON of fun to write! Anyways, the villain saves the heroes; love plot twists. My shift starts soon though, so I gotta end it here! Boo, I know, right? Anyways: read, enjoy, REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts; but no flames please. We'll leave flames to Mozenrath!


	3. Chapter 3: Sorcerers & Planets

**A/N: **OK, so I won't deny that I'm SUPER excited! 78 views in 4 days? Woot! Super! And it's really awesome that ppl from all over are reading this: US, UK (you guys read my "Avengers" story a lot too; which thx for that!), and now I've got Belgium on this (hi!) and Canada cool; as well as the Aussies…hey there! You guys are also great readers of my other fic-thx for that too! Anyways THX for reading! And plz, leave a review! So far the feedback I've gotten is good; THX for that!—but I would appreciate more input on what you think! Anyways, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 3- Sorcerers & Planets_

Aladdin's eyes narrowed as Mozenrath floated down till he hovered a few inches over the lapping water, right where it frothed the shore with bubbling foam. The wizard spared a glance at the spot where he had sent Saleen through a tar-like portal to the Black Sand's Otherworld.

"Effort not included," Mozenrath snarked, tossing Aladdin and Genie a patronizing smirk, "…though style is."

Xerxes sniggered, meandering around his master till deciding to rest on his shoulder. Mozenrath petted his head.

"Why did you save us, Mozenrath?"

The wizard lifted his gaze from Xerxes, eyeing the Aladdin disdainfully. "Well, if you really want to know…" he snapped his gloved fingers and instantly, Jasmine and the others fell from a swirl of inky smoke, landing in the copper sand around Al and Genie.

"Jasmine!" Aladdin gasped, helping her up. Abu saw Mozenrath and with a squeal, leapt to Al's shoulder. Iago though, with a shriek of terror, swan-dived behind Genie.

"Now that you're all here," Mozenrath began, sounding like a Professor lecturing his class, "we can set a few things straight."

"Like what?" Jasmine asked, suddenly feeling raw without her whip or knives.

"Well," the wizard returned his tone laced with trademark cheerfulness, "mainly, that you both nearly missed your own wedding tomorrow-"

Al and Jasmine paled; but of course, how would Mozenrath _not_ find out?

"-and, even though we weren't invited to the wedding…Xerxes and I thought we'd show there are no hard feelings by giving you an _extravagant_ present."

"Oh, boy," Iago muttered, feeling his stomach plummet, "here we go."

"But, you all decide to be thoroughly inconsiderate _yet again_ by running off to be destroyed by some pathetic elemental instead." Mozenrath tutted them. "After all of our hard work besides; so ungrateful, aren't they Xerxes?"

"Ungrateful," Xerxes mock chided.

"Now, I'm going to send you back to Agrabah, where you're going to _stay _in one piece and rest up for tomorrow. It'll be a busy day!.…As well as your last."

And before anyone could react, they were engulfed in black-sapphire smoke and the sound of Mozenrath's maniacal laughter before they were yanked off their feet and teleported back to Agrabah.

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Saleen got to her feet groaning and grunting as the hideous black tar-sand stuck to her all over!

"Disgusting," she pouted, trying to pull it off her lavish clothes. But, pale lavender among the black hills of goo caught her eye. "Armond!" she squealed gleefully.

Eventually, she reached him and scooped him from the goo. "Oh, my poor widdle Armony," she cooed in baby-voice, nuzzling him with her cheek. "It'll be ok. I'll make it all better."

Calling on her elemental power—which she giggled naughtily at realizing it still worked in this…other realm—she was able after a couple tries to restore her octopus to his natural form. She embraced him—which he happily returned.

"Oh, my big, strong Armond," she promised him, "we're going to find that wizard…and teach him to _fear_ what's in the sea."

Armond nodded in eager agreement.

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Jasmine looked around her in amazement. "Aladdin, we're at the docks."

"And look!" Genie added, pointing excitedly, "The boat's here too!"

He instantly poofed into a full mariachi band, playing exuberant music…including a pair of flamenco dancers in the traditional dresses with the ruffled bottoms; twirling and clicking pairs of castanets—and all with genie's face, the women included.

Aladdin and Jasmine took in the ship, and then exchanged worried looks.

"Let's get everyone to the palace," the princess tensely suggested, "we can sort all of this out later."

Aladdin nodded; he was happy and relieved they had made it back with all of the guests…but the fact that _Mozenrath_ had rescued them hung over him like a dark thunderhead.

And the fact that Iago had said _nothing_ since their return didn't help his unease.

They all made for the docks.

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"Well," Genie began, poofing into a blue-genie version of Einstein, and conjuring a massive tome to hover in front of him, "we don't have many variables to go on, but if the Wiz-kid were to be up to something _big_, he'd need biiiiiiiiiiiggg something's to make it happen."

They all sat in Aladdin's room; Al and Jaz side by side on an azure lounger, Iago beside the princess eyeing a fruit bowl nearby, Abu sitting in Al's lap. Rajah, Jasmine's very loyal tiger, was even curled up (as much as the massive cat could be) around Jaz's little feet.

"How big are we talking about, Genie?" Jasmine asked.

"Well, Jaz," Genie paged through the huge book fast enough to make the pages blur, "my guess would be…planets."

"Planets?"

"Yep," Genie replied, "for one thing-," he poofed into a solar system, "planets are _big_!"

Al and company were audience to a full genie solar system: the sun, and every planet in perfect order and colored and proportioned fairly close to scale—each complete with Genie's face- all twirled around a grinning genie sun who added: "planets, when aligning in certain ways, just so, can do a lot to amplify a magician's power."

**A/N: ** I know I'm cutting it off at a weird place, but it's 3:10am and I'm pooped! Anyways, plz enjoy and I'll try to update again soon. PLZ leave your thoughts! I wanna hear your input. Thx for reading; and have a great weekend! BTW, I saw I'm at 90+ readers already! That's awesome! And apparently, I've got readers now from Finland, Sweden and Italy! Hey; thanks for coming EU, glad you could be part of this 'party'! Till next time.


	4. Chapter 4: Dark Power

**A/N: **Wow, over 120 views as of today! Amazing! You guys are so epic for reading (and hopefully enjoying) this! Anyways, I've only got two finals to go so I'm gonna try to get more of this done; helps keep my brain from being college-fried! LOL; also, saw today I had my first reader from Jamaica! Welcome! And Switzerland too; and France. Hey Europe; hope you guys are enjoying too! And of course my home sweet home in USA Anyhow…onward! Enjoy and please review! Feedback is epic!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 4: Dark Power_

"But what can planets do to help Mozenrath?" Jasmine asked.

Iago sighed, and flapped a wing against his face. "Oh for crying out loud; planets can amplify a sorcerer's powers enabling them to open inter-dimensional portals."

Everyone looked at him.

"What!?" Iago said defensively, "Jafar was a specialist in that sort of thing; he did it all the time."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Here!? In the palace!?"

Iago dropped face first into a pillow, incredulous. "No, of course not, Jaz; he went to the moon to do it."

Jasmine cuffed him.

"Hey! What did you expect me to say?" Iago huffed. "It's not like I thought it was ok; but there was nothing I could do about it." _Or what he did after, _he thought, keeping that to himself.

"You could have told someone, Iago," Aladdin said harshly.

"Yeah, like that would have helped," the bird muttered, looking up, "and who would have believed a _talking bird?_ Against the sultan's most trusted advisor?"

Everyone was silent.

"Yeah," Iago concluded flatly, "that's what I thought. No one knew he was a sorcerer. And he would have charred me to a golden crisp if I acted against him…as you all already saw."

Jasmine pursed her lips. She patted him on the head. "I'm sorry, Iago."

He shrugged with mock indifference. "Just give me a few barrel-fulls of gold; we'll call it even."

Jasmine gave him a look.

"Uhhhh," Genie intervened, poofing back to himself, "not to ruin the moment, but bird-man is right," he poofed out another huge tome, "according to _Every Scary, Blood-Chilling Thing You've NEVER Wanted to Know About Magic,_ _Updated & Expanded, _planetary arrangements can do this. Andddddd…..," he flipped through the pages, "it says tomorrow the planets will align like so," he showed them the open book, both pages lavishly painted in a vivid picture of the solar system, "and this will enable any crazy wizard with way too much ego, to open a portal to," he suddenly gulped, and his face turned bright green, "uhhhhh…."

"Tell us Genie," Aladdin urgently pleaded. He rested a hand on his blue friend's arm.

"The Kingdom of the Wraiths," Genie gulped out. "Oh, this isn't good Al. These guys can't be harmed by swords; my semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic powers probably won't even put a dent in them."

Abu's mouth fell open. "Whah-do we do?" he asked.

Jasmine got up. "We tell father," she said, suddenly all business, "then we prepare for this."

"Jasmine," Al began.

"I know, Aladdin," she softly replied, "we…we don't have a plan—yet. But, we will. Something will come up. But we can't sit here and wait; we need to be doing."

"Uh, at the risk of getting back-handed again," Iago said, raising a feather as an imitation finger, "might I suggest, since we're dealing with a dark wizard, we rummage through our own dark wizard stuff? Jafar had no shortage of books in his lab; or other odds and ends that might come in handy."

Jasmine gave him a hug; Aladdin swore that Iago turned even redder than his scarlet feathers already were. "Great idea, Iago; see, we're already going in the right direction."

Aladdin crossed him arms, his eyes thoughtful. "Now if only Mozenrath in the meantime could be going in the wrong direction."

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The Land of the Black Sand shook with power; inside his largest lab, Mozenrath's hands glowed with sapphire flames as he shouted magical incantations to the Onyx Gate, which shimmered and rumbled with power.

Xerxes hovered quietly behind his master. It should be a glorious moment; why did he feel so…in danger?

"Why open portal now, master? Told heroes open tomorrow." He asked instead.

Mozenrath dropped his hands, and took a breath. "I lied," he bluntly gloated, "I want the drop on them. Besides; the portal would be easier to open tomorrow…but," he chuckled, "where would be the challenge in that?" He straightened, and picked a piece of lint off his fine robe, "By dawn, Xerxes, Agrabah will be ours. Then the rest of the 7 deserts soon afterwards. Think of _all_ the new palaces we'll have to build." His tone was slick with mock woe. Mozenrath smirked at him in good humor. "You'll have lots of new workers to bite when they slack off."

Xerxes knew he expected the eel to chuckle at that. And so he did, "Slack off." But there was something in the air…something…foreboding.

His master returned to his work.

The Onyx Gate glowed with swirls of silvery white light, twisting and winding along its gleaming exterior; it seemed to be begging the boy magician to open it. Mozenrath lifted his hands anew; his dark eyes lit with an almost wild desire to oblige it.

Xerxes felt a chill go through him. Something was terribly wrong; he couldn't shake the certainty of it away. "Master…" he murmured in warning. If only he had his full power, he'd be able to tell.

"Quiet, Xerxes," his master snapped. He began the final incantation. Outside, the dark clouds that perpetually hung over the kingdom swelled, and seemed to growl with the thunder. Crimson lightning lit them from within; it was a formidable spectacle. Xerxes watched from a nearby window, still lingering near his master. The sensation of peril drew closer, seemed to chill the very air.

A chill…. Xerxes shuddered. No, that wasn't possible. He was taken care of, forever. Master had seen to it himself.

Mozenrath's power surged all around him; Xerxes hadn't seen his master exert himself so in many years; not since defeating the old master. Xerxes momentarily puffed with pride.

His master was the _greatest_ of sorcerers.

Mozenrath gestured, his eyes unfocused from fatigue. Within the gate, what looked like black-silvery water garbled and snarled ominously. It wanted to open, badly. Mozenrath eyed his progress with exhilarated eyes. He was so close; a few more words….

The Citadel quaked. With a yell, the wizard was thrown against the Gate; Xerxes rushed to him.

Outside, over the Citadel, a long, massive _tear_ of blood-red light ripped across the sky from north to south and then suddenly widened, as though opening…somehow. A brilliant red flash of power erupted from the breech and violently shook the entire dark kingdom. Mamlocks fell on every street, coming apart, houses toppled, and buildings crumbled; ravines opened all over the vast realm. It was as though the end of the world had come at last.

The Citadel rocked on its very foundation; Mozenrath couldn't get up; it was so loud he covered his ears. The ground beneath his feet wouldn't stay still; he coughed as debris from the ceiling fell down over him. Xerxes tried to shield him with his lithe body; but he was too small to make any difference.

"Master, we must go! We must flee!" Xerxes cried; it was close, whatever was bringing this harbinger of disaster, had arrived _here_, at the Citadel.

Xerxes felt his little heart pound wildly; what _was_ it!?

The quaking finally ceased; the thunderous rumbles let up…it was eerily quiet as all that could be heard was the wizard's coughing and the scraping of rock as he managed to rise. Brushing off his expensive garb, he griped in extreme annoyance, "What could have caused _that_?"

A dark, familiar chuckle drifted to them from the doorway. Mozenrath and Xerxes spun around. The doors had opened…but when?

A very tall figure stood in the shadows. It chuckled again. Xerxes gulped. He knew that laugh.

Mozenrath didn't waste time. He summoned his power and blasted at the figure.

"Fly Xerxes! Save yourself!" he shouted.

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**A/N: **Oh, I'm so mean, ending this chapter here…but again the time got away from me! Gah; but, my time stalling machine is broken, and with new gov't reg's, well, it's getting harder and harder to get replacement parts. So…bear with me here. Hope you enjoy… PLEASE leave a review! If you're liking, I'd like to know…if not, please tell me why. K? K. So, more later.


	5. Chapter 5: Desdane

**A/N: **Yay! At over 150 reviews! Soooo cool! Thx for reading; and an extra special to my reviewers: you guys are making this even more fun to write, so thanks for leaving your VERY awesome words of feedback. I'm really happy you're enjoying this! I love writing it; but your feedback makes it even better. But, we left Moze in the start of a battle; so, w/o further ado…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 5-Desdane_

Xerxes flew to the window as his master shot blue fire at the intruder. The icy feeling gripped him all over as he dived through the tall, narrow window and out into the frigid night.

Inside, Mozenrath shouted commands that brought the various relics in the lab to life: statues of warriors, gems of power, living weapons and the like all heeded their master and rose, shimmering, glowing…howling, to do his bidding.

The dark figure's posture was loose and unthreatened. He snickered and raised a hand…Mozenrath gasped.

A gauntleted hand.

It crackled with scarlet power; and as the array of magical defenders closed in around him, he attacked. Fluidic, nimble, the tall figure dived and dodged, making the battle seem as easy as a stroll through the gardens. He knew every spell to defeat the various relics, changing both his magic languages and fighting styles flawlessly- and did it effortlessly. Mozenrath's breath caught as the last relic fell…defeated.

"Impossible," he whispered.

"No, boy…_inevitable_," the other said, his voice low—and amused. He extended his gloved hand again.

Mozenrath retaliated though. As a red burst of power shot at him, he countered it easily. But, he knew the other was toying with him now; and he proved right. Every attack the power grew more intense, more difficult to repel. Mozenrath ducked behind the long table near the Gate as the latest assault hurled at him.

It charred the table to black crisp.

Xerxes made his way to the domed ceiling of the lab; the quake had fractured it enough that the eel was sure there would be cracks enough he could watch through. He couldn't help; as hard as it was to admit to himself. The best he could do was biting the attacker; and he already knew how the intruder would repay him for it.

Probably the same as all the previous times; his stomach twisted in terror at the thought.

He found a crack large enough to peek through. His master front rolled behind the large mahogany table near the mystic Gate; it was blackened from magic fire a second later.

"Come now, my wayward apprentice, is this any way to greet your old master?" the intruder drawled.

"You're not my master!" the other bit out viciously. He attacked in kind; he conjured fire, ice, howling gale monsters; but the figure merely dispelled them with a flick of his wrist.

His master was going to lose, he realized. He cringed in fear.

The other though eventually tired enough of the exercise to snap his fingers.

The entire chamber's floor erupted in raging flames.

Xerxes yelped in fear for his master; coiled up to rush to his side…but his last command kept him fixed in place:

_Save yourself!_

Xerxes hated it; hated his helplessness. But what could he do!?

He watched as Mozenrath cried out as the fire reached him; but it was enchanted, it burned him on contact, but it wrapped around his arms and legs like manacles…anti-magic manacles.

His master's powers were bound. He was defenseless. Xerxes gulped.

With a smooth wave at the floor, the taller man banished the fire…except for what surrounded Mozenrath, both burning and binding him together. He drew out of the gloomy doorway; watching with satisfaction as the boy clenched his jaw to keep from screaming in pain. His expression said enough though; he was in agony.

Good; he deserved to be.

Mozenrath wracked his mind for any way to free himself from the fire-binds. He had experienced them plenty of times growing up; they were a routine punishment for not learning a spell quickly enough; or doing _anything_ that displeased his mentor—which hadn't been hard.

He couldn't stop the moan of pain as the fire gouged its teeth hungrily into his arms, snickering at his reaction. Even his bone arm, long eaten away by the gauntlet felt as though it were seared through. His legs were no better off. He collapsed to his knees; and bit his lip to keep from yelling out as pain stabbed him all over. Blood dribbled to his chin.

"Reminiscent, isn't it, my young pupil?" the figure said imperiously, striding casually towards him. Mozenrath glared up at the other magician, his eyes glassy from pain.

It was as though no time had passed at all; he was exactly as Mozenrath remembered him: over a head taller than he; with his chiseled, though regal features, dark auburn hair that fell in waves to the nape of his neck. He appeared to be around 40 years of age; but Mozenrath knew he was several thousand years old. His sapphire-black eyes bore down at him, as they always had until the day Mozenrath had been convinced he was liberated of the other's tyranny.

The taller man seemed to glean his thoughts from his expression.

"No, my faithless apprentice," he promised softly, menacingly, "you'll never be free of me, never." He straightened, and struck the boy, hard.

Xerxes winced at the sound of the slap echoing off the walls and high ceiling.

"However you came back, whatever you plan now, you won't succeed," Mozenrath hissed, fresh blood marring his face.

The other only smiled. "And why is that, my boy? Because of your pet? Xerxes may have fled…cowardly little thing he is, but he will bring no rescuers to your aid." He snickered, his low, cultured voice entertained. "You're at my mercy, apprentice." Another fierce backhand. "I, Lord Desdane, Master of the Black Sand, have spoken."

Xerxes shivered, and fled into the welcoming obscurity of the night.

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Aladdin plopped down another dusty book and surveyed the tan-stone chamber he and his friends had ventured to. Formerly the chambers of the Royal Vizier, Jafar, the chamber had been rarely entered since his…departure.

Iago was digging through a shelf attached to a wooden desk; it was segmented into many little compartments, each containing something Al was certain he didn't want to know what.

"C'mon," Iago muttered to himself, "I was so sure-"

The large room suddenly rocked as though seized and shaken by a giant hand.

"Whoa!" Genie exclaimed, and poofed into a giant sticky pad beneath his friends so they kept their footing.

After about a full minute, the thunderous shaking subsided.

"Uhhhh, what was that?" Iago asked hesitantly.

"I wo-wo," Abu said, with a shiver.

"We'd better find out," Aladdin told them, "Genie, you and carpet head to the Land of the Black Sand; apparently Mozenrath decided to not wait till tomorrow."

Genie poofed into an army captain. "Yessir!" he saluted smartly.

"Don't engage Mozenrath," Aladdin amended firmly, "just scout outside the city and see what you can find out. Get too close and those magic crystals of his will detect you."

Genie cringed. "Yeah," he said uneasily, "I remember."

Carpet shuddered.

The pair in the next second though were off.

Jasmine bit her lip. "Are you sure it was a good idea to send them? Mozenrath has been after Genie for years."

Aladdin sighed. "I know, but they can get there so much faster than anyone else; and I can't help but think time is no longer on our side."

Jasmine put a comforting hand on his shoulder and nodded soberly.

She felt the same way.

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OK, so I made myself stay up a bit later to get some more done. It's just itching my fingers to get it typed! LOL; the antithesis of writer's block I guess: writer's mania! LOL. Oh, well; hope you enjoyed. The party's just getting started More to come! Leave review plz!


	6. Chapter 6: Allies & Enemies

**A**/N: hey all; happy weekend! Glad to say I'm nearly at 200 views f/ this fic! Woot! Thx for reading; I saw a few new countries on my traffic list today; welcome to all of you new readers Hope you enjoy. Anyways; as always, plz enjoy and leave your thoughts/feedback…they mean a lot to me. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 6: Allies & Enemies_

Agrabah had shown as a beacon of peace for many centuries; few, if any warlords, tyrants or the like had challenged Agrabah's sovereignty, partly because of the solidarity of the people…but another reason was Agrabah's capital city was nestled safely behind a massive wall.

Its style was reminiscent of the famous wall of Babylon: dizzying tall, ensconced with watch-towers all along its massive perimeter; no army had successfully breached it in…well, no one actually remembered the last time.

So, why did Razoul feel such impending dread?

The behemoth of a guard stood rigidly at his post, staring with hard eyes at the starry night; they had shut the city's gates for the day; only one small gate allowing a sole person in at a time was open to any straggling wedding guests, otherwise, the city was secure.

Razoul felt a chill creep up his massive back; was it really secure?

He had been a royal guardsman for nearly his entire life; enlisting as a junior guard at a mere 14, but he had proven his loyalty early and valor and so had advanced quickly. He had proven his worth.

He wouldn't let that reputation be marred tonight.

His dark eyes narrowed; he could practically smell danger on the wind.

Razoul let out a tolerant sigh; ever since that blasted street rat had come into the royals' lives, it seemed that disaster had followed him. The boy was a menace; Agrabah had been a quiet and serene land…until the boy appeared, masquerading as a prince. After his low-birth was revealed, and the genie exposed…well, it had been an endless string of calamities after that.

_Why, _why_, didn't the sultan just exile the infernal street rat?_ Razoul thought for probably the billionth time. He sighed again, already knowing the answer:

Because their princess loved him; and the people loved their princess. They wouldn't reject Jasmine's betrothed, no matter _how_ enormous a jinx he was.

The city began to quake. Razoul was launched against the nearest wall as the tower rocked back and forth. He gripped the rough stone, trying to inch towards the stairs; outside, he could hear the sounds of people screaming, running and the sounds of crashing; probably stalls and stands in the nearby market.

Hopefully not houses.

A minute later it stopped. He immediately got to his feet. Silently, he cursed that boy who he knew was responsible for this latest chaos.

_He is a jinx_, Razoul groused silently; _the biggest jinx of them all_.

He heard a swooshing sound overhead; he riveted his attention just in time to catch the street rat's genie and flying carpet zipping over the gate and out into the star-studded night sky.

He made for the stairs. He had to check the city for damage; ensure the citizens were all right. He gripped the reassuring weight of his sword and called for three of his men to accompany him.

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Xerxes flew aimlessly through the chill desert; panicking and pulling at his thoughts for a plan.

"Must save master, must save master!" he repeated frantically, over and over.

He thought and thought; his master had no allies who would help him…Mozenrath had rejected the idea of alliances as weak:

_The powerful need no allies, Xerxes,_ his master had once told him, _the powerful only live with the burden of the weak coming to _them_…till they make their stance on 'alliances' clear, that is. _

And his master had many other sorcerers come to him to create liaisons over the years; until Mozenrath had made enough examples of those foolish enough to try that the other magicians had gotten the message and steered clear of him.

So…what was Xerxes to do now?!

"Need help," Xerxes whispered, so distracted by his thoughts that he narrowly missed a large dune, "need…rescue."

He froze; an idea, so insane and so ridiculous that the eel could barely believe his own mind, dared to tentatively form.

"Need…heroes," Xerxes realized aloud. But…would they come? Would they help?

He slumped. Of _course_ not…but…he had no other options.

He straightened himself, determined to save his master. "For master…Xerxes _try_," he declared, and raced in the direction of Agrabah.

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Razoul and his men had no shortage of work ahead of them; in the market alone most of the stands had collapsed, but thankfully, aside from some bruises and cuts, no one seemed seriously hurt.

He helped an older woman to her feet after lifting a huge plank off her; she was lucky, there were no broken bones.

"Oh, thank you, you big, strong man," she said teetering back and forth till she leaned more on her cane, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, "what a nice boy you are."

One of the guards behind him tittered as he righted a fallen wagon. Razoul glared over at him; but he felt his face warm. Silently, he thanked all that was it was too dark to notice his face redden. No one had called him 'boy' in a long time; everyone knew better.

"Uh," he coughed and straightened his massive frame, "it was nothing, ma'am; doing my duty."

A younger boy ran up to the elderly woman; he was apparently her grandson. He thanked Razoul for finding her and pulled her off in the direction of their home as she began telling Razoul what a fine husband he'd make and she had just the girl in mind….

Razoul sighed; grateful the boy had intervened. He turned as a loud 'booming' sound thundered overhead.

Oh, what now!?

In the direction of the west…where that cursed Land of the Black Sand dwelt…bright red flashes lit the horizon. Razoul leapt up the nearest ladder and reached the wall just in time to see a brilliant display of blood-red dance over the horizon.

He growled; he'd heard the princess's report of Mozenrath 'saving' them to the sultan.

He knew better; that magical brat didn't "save" anyone; Razoul longed for the millionth time for the day he'd be able to put that wizard boy's head on a pike.

Thinking about it made him feel much better.

He returned to the streets and his duty.

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Genie and Carpet whooshed over the sea of sand, made pale ivory by the stars and gentle glow of the moon; Genie poofed his eyes into a set of huge binoculars.

"We're coming up the Land of the Black Sand now, Rug-Man."

Carpet 'nodded' and flattened out to go faster.

Genie suddenly halted; poofing his face back to normal. Carpet caught himself a second later and 'put the brakes on' before swooping up to Genie, his tassels shrugging in confusion.

Genie covered Carpet's mouth, or where his mouth would be if he had one.

"Shhh, do you hear that, Ruggie?" he asked in hushed tones.

Carpet shook his head.

Genie dived behind a nearby dune with Carpet in tow; a moment later Carpet did hear something. The muttered sounds of…_Xerxes_!?

Carpet couldn't make out the words; only a few utterances of: "need help," "heroes," and "save master." He glanced over at Genie and gestured.

Genie nodded and just as Xerxes rounded the dune, flying for all he was worth, Genie poofed into a cat and pounced on him.

"Gah!" Xerxes wailed, and wasted no time in sinking his very sharp teeth into Genie.

Genie yowled and released the eel; who shot for the skies—but Carpet was faster. He rocketed after Xerxes and wrapped tightly around him from the neck down; with his head pinned, Xerxes couldn't move.

And couldn't bite.

Genie poofed into a sheriff, holding a pad of paper and pencil. "Do you know how fast you were going, worm-boy? I've got you clocked at wayyyyyyy over the speed limit for evil lackeys; plus… you were heading the wrong way in a one-way desert!"

Xerxes growled and hissed, trying to snap at the pencil. "Let Xerxes go! Xerxes need reach Aladdin!"

Genie poofed back to himself out of pure amazement; Carpet flinched in surprise too, but kept a tight hold on the eel.

"Wait…you're heading to Agrabah?" Genie said suspiciously, "Why? Wanting to get a head count for Wiz-kid? How many guests his wraiths get to chow down on tomorrow?"

Xerxes blinked; oh, so they had figured out his master's plan then. But he shook away the surprise. "No, need help; need help for master. Master in trouble."

Genie folded his arms. "Ahhh-hah," he said doubtfully, "and uh, why should we believe you? I say we go the Moze's kingdom and see for ourselves what the Wonder-brat is up to."

Xerxes flailed desperately. "No! Can't! Desdane back! Desdane capture Genie! Take Genie's power!"

Genie and Carpet looked at each other in shocked disbelief. "Des….Desdane?" Genie whispered, turning white, "the crazy sorcerer even Jafar wouldn't go near?" He had been Jafar's genie once; he remembered his cruelty…and insanity too well.

Xerxes frantically nodded. "Yes, Desdane has master! Must help! Must save master!"

"And how can we be sure you're telling the truth?" It was a fair question; Genie had fallen prey to Mozenrath's tricks before-more than once even.

In the near distance, they could vaguely see the Citadel and surrounding city Mozenrath dwelt most of the time when in his kingdom. The ground began to quake again.

Carpet dove for the sand, but Genie grabbed him. "No, Rug-man, we're going up!"

They raced into the open sky…Genie turned his attention back to the Citadel. He heard Xerxes gulp beside him. Genie felt his jaw drop a full 3 feet.

Far below, the Citadel stood in perfect view…as well as the scarlet flashes emanating from nearly all of its windows. Carpet and Genie watched for a few moments, dread thick in the air…which suddenly seemed soooo much colder; and not because they hovered at a higher elevation. There was…something…else happening.

A deafening roar sounded from the Citadel; Carpet felt Xerxes shudder and actually try to burrow inside of him to hide. They watched in horror as a…it was too enormous to even be called that-monster, erupted from the scarlet light and form a single, terrifying creature that dwarfed the Citadel with its leviathan-like body.

Constructed of scarlet light, its body protected by plates of armor, the fanged creature lifted its dragon-like head to the skies and shrieked deafeningly.

Genie and Carpet both covered their ears—or where they'd be if the rug had any.

"We'd better tell Al," Genie said, and hastily snatched Carpet and bee-lined at full speed for Agrabah.

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	7. Chapter 7: Kings & Thieves

**A/N: **over 205 views! Amazing! Hope you're all enjoying…this is SO fun to write! Onward! **I forgot disclaimer though: NONE of the Aladdin stuff if mine; oh well, it's all Disney's …not that any of you didn't already know that, right? LOL. This is purely for fun; nothing else.

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 7: Kings and Thieves_

The guards had swept most of the city and were also checking all of the inns. Razoul spoke with the innkeeper of Agrabah's largest and most elaborate inn; and so didn't notice when Genie and Carpet (now rolled up), flew over head towards the Palace.

Razoul was mainly content; the city seemed well, the citizens had suffered only minor injuries, no fatalities…and no dark wizards had come to call.

He grimaced as he thanked the innkeeper for his time and turned to leave. The door opened as he reached for it, and a group of well-dressed men stood in his way.

The man directly in front of him, a dark-haired fellow who looked to be 40-ish and garbed in cobalt blue, smiled apologetically. "Forgive us, guardsman, we didn't mean to block your way."

At once, the group of them, around a dozen, cleared a path for him.

Razoul replied it was quite all right and headed for the street; he turned and watched as the group entered the inn and the man in blue asked the keeper for rooms.

Why did that fellow seem so…familiar? Had he seen him before?

A picture of that blasted street rat flitted across his mind.

Razoul frowned. Why would that man remind him of the street rat?!

Shaking his head, he brushed it off as a too long of a night and sought out his men.

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"That was close, Cassim."

Cassim looked up from the desk where he had laid out the "gifts" they would be bringing to the wedding tomorrow: knives, daggers, swords, and the like and met the other man's eyes, offering a confident grin.

"We've had far closer calls than that, Sahid; and before you forget, nothing happened."

"It had to be a guard," another man grumbled, "and a bull of a guard at that."

Cassim laughed in good humor. "Are my thieves getting nervous? We are on the eve of our greatest exploit yet and you are thrown by a single guard?"

The men around him, mumbled, embarrassed; Sahid though closed the distance between him and Cassim, and folded his arms, not yielding.

"Why did that guard stare at you so, Cassim?"

Cassim waved dismissively. "How should I know? It matters not, Sahid; only our final planning for tomorrow does. Now, do you all remember what you are to do?"

Sahid sighed. "We loot the guests while you head for the sultan's treasure room for even more riches. We do so invisibly and with no mistakes; yes, Cassim, we know."

Cassim polished an ornate knife. He liked it; it reminded him of the ceremonial knife he left with his late wife, Bashirah, when he had departed from his home all those years ago.

He suddenly needed some air.

Feigning casualness, he tucked the blade, after sheathing it, into his belt. "I'm going to mingle among the guests; see if there are any particular pieces of loot we should be going for."

His men looked at him in amazement; a thief did not mingle, what if a witness recalled his face after the job was finished? They were staying in their rooms for a reason. Dressed as nobles, no one would be suspicious of their unsociable behavior, simply dubbing it a high-born disdain for "slumming."

"I'll stay in the shadows," Cassim assured them, donning a plain brown robe to conceal his finery. "If anyone spots me, they'll simply assume I'm a noble strolling the streets in disguise."

One of the skinny men sputtered. "Cassim, even the royals here never do _that_."

"Well, then they'll assume I'm not from here." With that, he gave them all a lazy, but confident mock salute and was off.

"He's sometimes too greedy for his own good, Sahid," one of the smaller men chided flatly.

Sahid nodded; but his eyes narrowed. Cassim never hid anything from him: his most trusted confidant. So…what was he up to?

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Cassim ambled through Agrabah's torch-lit streets. It marveled him, how the city seemed frozen in time; he had been away for years and years…yet, every iota of the city was as he recalled it.

He took a deep breath of the night air, taking in the scent of everything from exotic spices to the distinct odor of camels. He had so missed this place, his home…but he had long since been robbed of any reason to stay.

That was why he had left his men so suddenly; he had felt the memories resurging within him, unbidden…but still there and as overpowering as ever.

That night came back to him, the eve when his eldest, Farid had vanished. He had held his beloved Bashirah as she sobbed; whimpering it was all her fault-that she should not have left him alone. He had watched his younger, Aladdin, as he clutched Farid's book, stained with blood, as he tried to understand what was happening; why Farid was gone.

He had left the next day; after making arrangements with his neighbors to look after his wife and son; he had bought supplies and taken his horse to locate his son.

But it was as though Farid had vanished to some distant netherworld. He had tracked down every lead, no matter how vague…but nothing. His son was gone—without even the most minuscule of traces.

But…he had heard rumors; whispers of sorcerers who steal away apprentices in the dead of night. Who snatch children from their homes if they sense the child had potential for magic.

But, Cassim was sure Farid had no latent magic. Yes, his boy had been extremely clever for his few years; he had taught himself to read at age 4, to write at 5-just before he disappeared. But…just because his boy had obvious intellectual gifts; just because he and Bashirah had high hopes their son would one day be a scholar or advisor to the sultan himself…he had never shown any sort of _magical _potential. Nothing strange had ever happened around him. And he and his wife had no magic in their families.

But, still the doubt lingered; refusing to be totally dismissed.

Cassim put his head down, recalling how after a few years; four to be exact, he had returned home…dreading having to tell his Bashirah their son was lost, but longing to see both her and Aladdin. But…when he stood before his wife, it was not her, but her gravestone.

She had died while he was away; feverish from grief, the neighbors had said. And Aladdin, his little monkey who climbed all over everything and seemed to be ignored by gravity…was gone. The neighbors had told him marauders had ambushed Bashirah's burial, looking to capture new slaves to sell…and amidst the chaos, Aladdin had vanished too.

Cassim sighed; it had been a very long string of years that had followed. He had traveled, sought for Aladdin with no more success than Farid; had eventually become a merchant…until the day he met the 40 Thieves.

"Well," a snide voice said behind him, "what do we have here? A noble, walking alone? Without his bodyguards? How quaint."

Cassim carelessly turned, already very aware of where this was going. Oh well, he did need something to take his mind off of his family; this would provide as good a diversion as any.

Plus, he could use the exercise; keep him loose.

Out of a shadowy overhang emerged three very large, muscular men. Hmmm, pity; he was hoping for a _challenge_…like about 7 or 8—just to keep it entertaining.

Oh well, he'd take what he could get, as any good thief would.

"Hand over your baubles," one of them sneered, "and we might let you walk away with your pretty face intact."

"Hmm," Cassim nonchalantly replied, "I think the age where I cared about my 'pretty' face has long since come and gone. What if that doesn't matter to me?"

One of them snarled and brandished a curved dagger. _Cheap, and petty_, Cassim thought, unimpressed. He'd had better daggers as a child.

"Then maybe we let you keep both your arms and legs," the man growled.

Cassim could only sigh as the man ran at him and swung the dagger at his head.

Really, Cassim had been hoping for a better distraction. Oh well, he'd make it more worthwhile, somehow.

As he easily ducked and lazily kicked the man off balance, Cassim wondered what his sons were doing.

He hoped they were all right, wherever they were.

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Mozenrath's awareness floundered between reality and the blissful nothingness that was so tantalizingly close…but out of reach.

He was aware that his whole body was in agony; the fire manacles had been replaced by silver chains—magic repressing of course; but were still enchanted to keep him in constant pain. Desdane had teleported them to his favorite lab; housed in one of the Citadel's many towers. Mozenrath had locked up this hideous place the day he had taken over and had never ventured near it since. Now, he lay on the all-too-familiar-icy floor, done in ivory marble-tiles; struggling to breathe as Desdane strode around him—as he had all of the hundreds of times before this.

He held a carved, dark wooden walking stick crowned with a flawless black diamond about the size of a plum. It clanked against the tile as he walked his bearing and strides every inch the ruler and unrivaled master.

In his other hand he held Mozenrath's copper gauntlet. He glanced down at his pupil, whose dark blue garb was torn and sticky with blood; his head bare. Desdane felt himself seethe at those wretched dark curls, his last apprentice—may she eternally rot—also had a mane of thick black curls. She had been treacherous; more so than the boy even. But, she had received _her_ punishment long ago.

The boy's punishment had only begun though; he knew Mozenrath was all too aware of that. But, he allowed his apprentice a small reprieve while he considered the gauntlet. He could sense most of his pupil's magic safely dormant within it; merely waiting to be called upon.

He let his fingers rove over the glove as he reflected on how it had completed its task nearly as well as he had expected, before turning to take in his traitorous pupil's bone arm.

"You never conquered the gauntlet, boy; it conquered you." Even now, he could see symptoms on his pupil of magic withdrawal: the shivering and increased paleness weren't just from blood loss.

He released the gauntlet and it hovered in the air. Mozenrath forced himself to peer up as Desdane said a word to his gauntlet…which dissolved into smoke before embracing Desdane's bare hand…and shifting back into its solid form—now perfectly matching Desdane's other black gauntlet.

They were a set; Mozenrath hissed at the realization. His gauntlet wasn't a solitary relic…but half of a _pair_.

But…why had Desdane deceived him? For what gain? He pulled at his mind, sluggish from fatigue, for theories. Only one, frightening notion occurred to him.

Desdane flexed his now gloved hand; the gauntlet now a sleek black leather like its twin and noticed his apprentice glowering in realization.

He chuckled. "No, apprentice, the gauntlet was always mine; your taking it after our last 'battle,' did not make you its master. Its only master was ever…me." He flexed his hand again.

"But, I believe I've given you enough of a respite," he decided in a low, conversational voice and lifted his walking stick, pointing the dark gem at his faithless pupil.

Mozenrath could do nothing but wait for the pain to come.

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**A/N: **Ok, so now the 40 Thieves are in the mix! And Desdane has the Black Sand under his thumb again… Where is this all going? Well, you know what you gotta do to find out! Hoping you enjoyed…if you did, plz review! Till next time!


	8. Chapter 8: Unexpected Revelations

**A/N: **I know the chapters are coming kinda quick…but since the world's gonna blow up this Fri I figure I'd better get all I can done beforehand…LOL! JK. No, I've actually got a full week coming up and so wanna get as much finished before that as I can. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 8: Unexpected Revelations_

"Al! We're back!"

Al, Jasmine and the rest turned as Genie flew through the balcony doors with Carpet close behind.

Al rose from the sofa he and Jaz sat on planning and sprinted over to Genie. "What happened? Did you find anything?"

"Oh boy, did we ever," Genie said dramatically, "it's a real House of Horrors in Moze's kingdom, Al—I mean, more than usual," he poofed into a blue, slimy ghoul with ragged clothes and waggled his decrepit fingers at Aladdin menacingly, "but..." he poofed back, "we did pick you guys up a souvenir." He gestured to Carpet, who swooshed up to Al—rolled up with Xerxes's head poking out.

"Xerxes!" Al exclaimed.

"Yep, we caught him trucking out of Mozen-brat's kingdom like you wouldn't believe," Genie said dryly, "he…uh, says he's gotta talk to you."

Al started. "To me?" He stared with hard eyes down at the eel.

"Yes," Xerxes sputtered, struggling against Carpet, "must save master. Must have heroes' help."

Jasmine came up beside Aladdin, Iago on her one shoulder. Abu bounded across the room, hopped onto a table near Al, then leapt onto Al's upper arm. "Why would you need _our_ help?" Jaz asked warily.

Xerxes kept thrashing. "Please let out; not try escape, promise not try. Only came for help; save master from Desdane."

The room was deathly quiet.

Al and Jaz looked at Genie; their faces both appalled and questioning.

"It's what he told us too," Genie affirmed hesitantly.

"Did you _see_ Desdane?" Jasmine asked her eyes widened by alarm.

Genie and Carpet both shook their heads. Xerxes was jostled from side to side; he bit at Carpet with no success in response.

"Carpet, let Xerxes go," Al said; when everyone turned their shocked expressions to him, he gave everyone a '_yeah, I know it sounds crazy look_,' and added, "but you give your word. You try to escape and Genie will lock you in your own lamp."

Xerxes fearfully nodded. "Xerxes give word."

"Ok; Carpet, let him go."

The intricately designed purple rug unrolled; Xerxes wound out, but hovered between it and Aladdin.

Aladdin folded his arms. "Why should we believe you? That Desdane is back?"

"Desdane appeared before master could open portal; captured master. Master too tired from incantations to fight Desdane."

Jasmine, to her amazement, found it hard to not believe him; she had never heard his voice so pleading before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Iago eye the eel, his gaze almost dissecting. Iago had once served a dark magician; could he tell if Xerxes was lying or not?

"All right, then prove that Desdane really came back," Aladdin challenged, "more likely, this is some elaborate trick of Mozenrath's."

Xerxes shook his greyish head. "No! Not trick! Saw master fight Desdane; saw master…lose." He crumpled a bit at that.

"Then how did _you_ get away, wonder-worm?" Iago asked, his voice dripping condescension.

Xerxes didn't look up from the floor; admitting he could do nothing to save his master was humiliating. "Master told Xerxes when first saw Desdane to fly away; save self. Master knew immediately was Desdane."

Jasmine suddenly felt bad for the little eel; he looked so ashamed. Then it hit her; what Xerxes said.

Mozenrath had told his servant to _abandon_ him; to _save_ himself. Mozenrath, who was undoubtedly a hundred times more selfish than any suitor Jasmine had ever been forced to talk to—and there had been many—had ordered Xerxes to desert him to his fate.

But…_why_?! Was it truly that horrible? Jasmine looked back at Xerxes again; his despondent expression told her yes; it was that horrible.

She was convinced then he wasn't lying…a moment later she realized everyone was looking at her.

"Jasmine?" Aladdin asked.

Without ceremony, Jasmine took a silk pillow off a nearby chair and placed it on the table behind Xerxes. "Sit here and wait for us, Xerxes."

She got a bewildered look from the eel.

"We need some time to talk this over," Jasmine explained. His gaze swept over the others, then returned to her. He nodded and plopped on the table…beside the pillow, staring at the floor.

Jasmine opened her mouth to tell him no, she got the pillow for him to lie on, but Aladdin gently took her arm and shook his head, eyeing the eel dubiously. She nodded with a sigh and walked with the others out to the balcony.

Beyond the lattice-style doors, Iago didn't skip beat. "I can't believe you act like you really pity that slimy menace," he exclaimed.

"Something's wrong-" Jasmine retorted, but was cut off.

"You bet there is," Iago came back, "something smells fishy about all this, and I don't mean Wonder-worm."

"Why would Mozenrath rescue us from Saleen like he did, and then gloat about how he's going to ruin our wedding tomorrow and destroy Agrabah just to send Xerxes later to say he's in trouble?" Jasmine demanded. "Don't you see? It makes no sense."

Genie fidgeted. "I don't know Jaz, from what we've all seen Mozen-crazy is never lacking for tricks. This could just be one of his more deranged ones."

No one noticed Iago scrutinizing Xerxes again. The eel had risen from the long table and was moving spasmodically in a circle; he was pacing, Iago deduced. There was a look in the eel's face though…a look Iago was slowly recognizing.

"But Mozenrath is too proud to sink to such a low trick," Jasmine objected, "he's a ruler; he'd consider it beneath his dignity to look like he needed help…even as a battle tactic."

"Jazzzz," Genie gently reminded her, "Mozenrath has tricked us plenty of times before…remember Dagger Rock? Yeah, we thought we had him cornered there too; but then-bang! A huge Crystal of Ix!" He shuddered. "And with the Muktar too. Oh, I can see him doing something like this."

Aladdin grimaced, and paced, listening. The problem was he could see both points. Mozenrath was arrogant and so Jasmine was right; but he was slippery and sneaky too…which validated Genie.

So, was it a trick or not?

"I don't know what to think," he finally admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced up at Abu, who was perched on his shoulder now. The little monkey shrugged helplessly and said in his barely understandable words that he didn't know either; both made sense.

"Uh, guys," Iago said tentatively. Everyone turned to him.

He sat on the stone balustrade of the balcony, still looking at Xerxes, who hadn't ceased 'air pacing' since he'd begun. "I can't believe I'm about to say this…but I think eel boy might be telling the truth."

He was rewarded with deadpan shock from everyone.

Flinging his wings exasperatedly into the air, he went on. "I know! I can't believe me either! But…." He remembered telling them that Jafar had opened portals within the palace to other worlds. He also remembered _not_ telling them _why_ Jafar did so…and what he gained from it—at the expense of others.

He must have looked as ill as he suddenly felt, because Jasmine put a soft hand on his back. "Iago? Are you all right?"

No, he wasn't. He felt like throwing up; but he wouldn't…it'd be a waste of those expensive delicacies he had for supper.

"Uh, yeah," he said at length, but chancing a look at the princess was enough to see she didn't believe him, "but…why don't you ask eel-boy why Mozen-maniac told him to save himself. I think you'll believe me then."

"Why?" Jasmine asked, looking as baffled as the others.

"Uhhhhhh, just…just do it; I'd prefer wormy tell you." Yep; he just might throw up after all, delicacies or not.

Jasmine and Al exchanged looks, and Al said, "All right, Iago, if you say so." They headed back to Jasmine's room—and Xerxes. Jasmine lingered behind, and petted Iago's head.

"Iago, you're not ok," she said, "should I get some medicine for you?"

Iago shook his head. "Thanks Jaz; but really? The only cure for me is getting this next part over with."

Jasmine nodded, not understanding his meaning, but intuition said: Jafar. "You can stay out here if you want."

Iago fluffed his feathers; that seemed to jar him back to himself. "Ohh-hooo-no! Monkey boy isn't going to call me a wimp! And he would too!"  
Jasmine lifted him up and put him on her arm. "Okay then. Let's get this over with."

Iago nodded; they joined the others inside.

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"I'm impressed, apprentice," Desdane avowed, looking down at Mozenrath, "you've grown even more powerful than I expected."

And indeed, it was the case; it had taken several hours to break down his pupil's magical barriers enough to actually sense the full force of his magic…but he had ways—

Ways; and ways again-there was a reason no other sorcerer had dared come anywhere near him in all his millennia of existence.

Raising a hand majestically, he summoned up his own power afresh; it hummed and pulsated around his one gauntlet.

"It's a pity really," he drawled, "had you been loyal, you would have been the most powerful sorcerer of this age one day."

On the floor, barely able to move, Mozenrath let out a raspy laugh. "You really expect me to believe that?" He struggled, fiercely—stubborn creature that he was—to get up, but crumpled again on the ornate floor, which was now stained with his blood.

Desdane reared up, his elevated hand began to crackled with power; dark, sickly green light wove around it, languidly; like slimy water. Mozenrath didn't have to look up; he could sense it easily enough. His breath caught; fearful—he should be. Mozenrath tried to recoil from what was coming; but Desdane snapped the fingers of his other hand; and the shackles burst into flames. His rebellious pupil screamed.

"What I expect you to believe, boy, is that for treachery; the price will be _most_ severe."

Mozenrath snickered without humor. "And what will you do? You've already taken everything from me; there's nothing left." The bitterness was palpable in his voice.

Desdane only laughed. "Ah, but there you are wrong, boy."

Mozenrath cringed. No; Desdane was bluffing, he had to be.

"You have so much more that I can take away…more than you even know." He thought briefly of what he knew about his apprentice's past; what Mozenrath could no longer remember…but Desdane did. "For instance; I can take your hope. You cling to a small shred of hope for escape…to bide your time as you and that accursed eel did before-"

Mozenrath felt his stomach twist. How had Desdane-?

The elder mage chuckled again. "You see how well I know you? But never fear, apprentice, treacherous child or not, I'm hardly going to kill you."

Mozenrath knew that wasn't out of mercy; but the farthest thing from it. He had to know; no matter how horrible. "What are you going to do then?" He was oddly relieved at the hollowness in his tone.

"You're going to suffer more than any other punishment I've dealt you before: I'm going to take your magic—all of it."

Mozenrath felt dizzy with panic. Full magical extraction usually brought full insanity as well. And both were incurable; which is why most victims usually gave up the will to live and died. It was the better option.

Desdane seemed to peer into his thoughts. "Never fear, boy; you'll retain your sanity. It wouldn't be worth stripping you of your power unless you were lucid enough to suffer the memory of once having it—and _why_ you lost it."

Mozenrath shuddered; Desdane had threatened this for years, but to actually know he was about to make good on his threats….

But Xerxes escaped; it was something. _His_ suffering was over; Desdane would never bother to look for him. Mozenrath grasped onto that for solace. He waited for the inevitable; and hoped, yes, _hoped_ desperately that his fail-safes held out.

He felt the vicious talons of Desdane's power tear into him; it was too painful to even scream.

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**A/N: **well, it's 2am and I'm wiped. Enjoy! Leave a review!


	9. Chapter 9: A Child's Defiance

**A/N: **Merry Christmas everyone! Hoping you're all having a fabulous holiday; and the New Year treats you great. Wow; this story has over 430 views so far! Amazing! Plus, I've got readers now from Czech Revar, the United Arab Emerites, Finland, So. Africa and more! So, thx new readers for coming; and hello to my readers in US, UK, Canada, my Aussie readers and the rest of Europe. Your support is ever appreciated! Well, we've left the characters in some deep situations; let's get this party moving!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 10: A Child's Defiance_

Aladdin and Jasmine returned to where Xerxes had lost himself in a fixation of aerial pacing. Iago coughed loudly to snap the eel back to himself; it worked. Xerxes jolted, and peered up at them.

With another jerk, he perked up. "You decide? You save master?"

Jasmine pursed her lips and leaned down so she was eye level with the eel. "We haven't made up our minds yet-"

Xerxes looked crestfallen-

"-But you can help us choose," Jasmine gently encouraged, and Xerxes brightened a little at that.

"How help?"

"By telling us what Mozenrath meant when he told you to save yourself," Jasmine replied, "what was it you were saving yourself from?"

Xerxes's mismatched eyes immediately locked onto Iago. The parrot shifted a little nervously on Jaz's shoulder, but the recollected his angst.

"C'mon, slug-boy, spill; we both know what the wizard brat meant," he prodded, pointing an accusing wing at Xerxes.

Xerxes deflated. He looked up at Jasmine again and the princess was surprised to see he looked almost…apologetic? But…why?

"Not pleasant story," Xerxes whispered, as if reading her mind.

Jasmine nodded; she had seen lots of what later made 'unpleasant stories.' She could stomach it—she hoped.

In her peripherals, she watched Aladdin come up beside her and wrap a fortifying arm around her waist. "Whenever you're ready," is all Al said to the flying creature.

Xerxes nodded his strange face sullen. He sighed and began, "Long, long time ago, Desdane rule Black Sand. Much feared, no one venture near him…he known for…opening portals. Did often; would use relics, or magic mirror or water portals. But…always did for one purpose-"

"Which was?" Jaz asked softly.

Xerxes gave her the apologetic look again. "For collecting…magic creatures." He looked at Iago again and Jasmine watched something silent but profound pass between them. He then continued. "Desdane summon up many magic creatures; all kinds…invoke them to Land of Black Sand…and then…" he gulped, hard, "he…take their magic. All magic."

Genie turned white. Al and Jaz reeled. Iago looked nauseous again. Abu shuddered.

They had all seen what had happened to Genie and Eden when Mozenrath had taken almost all of their magic…they had super-aged—they who were immortal. So…if Desdane had taken all of the creatures' magic…that could only mean-

"Creatures all died," Xerxes pronounced, his voice hollow, "hundreds creatures, thousands creatures…_all_ magical—_dead_." Another gulp. "Gained Desdane _much_ power. No one could do like him. No one; all feared him for it."

"So, uhhh," Genie chanced, "how do _you_ figure into all this?"

Xerxes slumped. "One night, Desdane open portal…to Xerxes's world."

Jaws dropped all around.

Xerxes nodded. "Once…Xerxes had great power; much magic. Was…different." He sighed at the memory, though most of his memories were now gone; stolen from him along with his magic. But, he still had vague impressions of being powerful…wise, even sleek and handsome. But, not anymore. "Desdane summon many different creatures from other world; Xerxes one of them. Xerxes last. Watched…" he shuddered, "watched…Desdane take magic from others; one by one…take….they scream…they…_die_," he shivered and squeezed his eyes shut; he could feel the cold that heralded Desdane, feel the impenetrable _dark_; the echoes of the _screams_—

_No, must concentrate; must save master!_

He suddenly felt soft hands on him; he opened his eyes to meet the princess's large…warm eyes. "It's ok," she whispered, "you're safe here."

Xerxes shook his head; she didn't know better…but he did. "No," he murmured, "no 'safe' from Desdane. He take my magic last," he gulped again, "Xerxes feel magic drain away…not know age…or death…only heard of them…but, could feel life…emptying…me…helpless to stop it."

Jasmine was pierced through by the pain in his face. Was this the reason he became what he is now? The trauma of losing…wait….

"But, you can still do magic," she corrected, a hint of suspicion in her tone, "I saw you turn from a fox into yourself; Aladdin saw you shape-shift from a baby."

Xerxes nodded. "Yes, Desdane not take all power. Some left…not much…but little. Enough to survive."

"How?" Aladdin asked.

Xerxes smiled proudly. "Master. Master was child when Xerxes come to this world. Not know what Desdane doing in lab; so followed…snuck in and hid in rafters. Watched. But…master like animals. Not want animals hurt. So…when saw what Desdane do…master intervened. Jumped in front of Xerxes and pushed spell away," Xerxes sighed in relief, "was just before Xerxes die. Saved Xerxes."

"Uhhhh-huh," Genie said at length. "And I imagine Desdane was just thrilled about that?"  
Xerxes frowned. "No, not thrilled; angry. Beat master hard for it; but…Xerxes bound self to master for saving life. Desdane choose to not break bind; let master keep Xerxes…but forced master promise not interfere again. Master…agreed; but still not like Desdane take magic. But…could do nothing. Not again. So…Xerxes stay in this world now. Serve master."

Jasmine and Aladdin traded amazed looks. Abu make an incredulous sound of wonder. Iago shifted in a way that said: I knew I was right…and wish I wasn't. Genie sidled up between Al and Jaz and pulled them back a few steps.

"You know guys," he whispered, "this kinda makes sense. Eel boy has always acted a little deranged…and frankly," he actually gave Xerxes a sympathetic glance, "if any magical being loses their magic it's traumatic…even if it's not enough to kill; but to lose it in such a terrifying way…they'd still end up," it was his turn to gulp uneasily, "well, like eel-boy."

Jasmine nodded grimly. "So, before this, you think Xerxes was…?" she couldn't say it; it sounded so—wrong somehow, in her head.

"Sane? Powerful? Maybe _not_ creepy-looking?" Genie supplied soberly. "Yeah, it's wayyyy possible, Jaz. In fact, I'd be willing to bet _my_ magic on it."

"And Mozenrath watched this," Al murmured, his tone grave and amazed, "and Xerxes said he was only a _kid_." Al was thrown by the idea; but the most startling part was, it added up. The fact was, Mozenrath did like animals; Aladdin had seen it. Xerxes was his constant companion, which now made even more sense, and when he had unveiled the Wind-jackal, Shurako he had petted the beast's head over and over while gloating to them of his plans. He had never seen Mozenrath try to take a magic creature's power…though he clearly didn't have those qualms about genies. Regardless, it made a twisted sort of sense. And…it begged the question: was Mozenrath at one time in his life actually good? If he risked defying his master, Desdane, to save Xerxes from certain death…there had to be some good in him somewhere then? Had it been Desdane's doing alone then? Had he twisted Mozenrath into something he really wasn't? Aladdin felt wrong-footed somehow; all this time fighting Mozenrath…and now, on the eve of he and Jaz's wedding, he's not going through last minute planning…but debating whether or not one of his most vicious enemies was at one point a good person…and whether or not he should risk his life to save him.

He had always dreamed of living in a palace; he'd told Abu they would for years. He had promised that once they were rich and living like royals…what had he said?

_Everything will be all right._

Ha; if only he'd known.

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**A/N: **A little short; but I wanted to upload something tonight! Enjoy! Plz leave a review! A Christmas present for the author?


	10. Chapter 10: A Courageous Path

**A/N: **Hello, aren't I nice? Giving you multiple chapters in 1 day? LOL; tis the season, right? Well, I hope you're still enjoying; we're at 505 reviews for this fic! If you're enjoying, plz leave a review in my "writer's stocking", K? K. A special thanks to all of you who have so far: Rollingbell, YukinaCross, Scorpion DOADA, and Putscheshka; your support means A LOT to em. And I wanna send a holler out to my new readers in Jamaica, Poland, Austria, Denmark and Finland! Hopin' y'all have a great day…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 11- A Courageous Path_

Jasmine petted Xerxes consolingly on the head. The truth was, she never thought in a million years she'd actually feel sorry for the eel; he and his master had been a merciless plague to Agrabah…but after what Xerxes had just told them…how could she not pity him for suffering like he had? Despite what he and Mozenrath had done to her kingdom afterwards…Xerxes hadn't deserved to endure that pain and torment.

She watched as Aladdin let go of her waist and paced, his face pinched in thought and worry. Married or not, she could see his thoughts plain as the nighttime stars. He was conflicted; it was far from surprising; learning that his most insidious enemy was probably having his magic drained from him this moment…the need to be the hero was warring against the human need to see Mozenrath get his.

But, it was far more complicated than that; though before Jasmine could open her mouth to say they should probably talk this out and decide, Genie and Iago passed one another a look that was just overflowing with…something's…and Iago suddenly said, "Uh, guys, conference again."

Jasmine turned to politely tell Xerxes to wait, but at Iago's words, the eel went back to air-pacing without even looking at any of them. And once again, Jasmine felt Aladdin's hand take her arm.

"Aladdin," she softly chided. She wasn't a child.

Al gave her a pensive look. "Sorry," he said, probably not even realizing what he was doing—or how it was being interpreted. Jasmine suddenly felt bad for her tone…and _she_ took _his_ arm, and got a smile for it.

"This is what you expected?" Aladdin asked Iago.

The parrot slouched a little. "Jafar tried to do the same; on more than one occasion. He didn't have the same level of success Desdane did though…but the eel said it: Desdane is in a class all his own"-he shuddered, "—for better or worse."

"Sounds like more 'worse' to me," Genie said flatly. He turned to Al. "So…do we save the Wiz-kid?"

Aladdin took Jaz's hand. He couldn't help it; Desdane sounded far more ferocious than Mozenrath ever was and touching his betrothed helped him stay grounded. He wondered now if Mozenrath was as blood-thirsty as his master; from what they had heard, Al was beginning to doubt it. Still, one story wasn't enough to go on. But, there were other deciding factors in play that they had to consider.

"The fact is," he mused aloud, "if we don't save Mozenrath, Desdane will probably take his power. Then, we'll have a sorcerer with his own magic, plus Mozenrath's and if he opens another portal and starts draining creatures of their magic again," he shook his head, "…we can't let that happen." Al met Genie's eyes.

"You and Carpet can't help, Genie."

Genie's jawbone hit the balcony with a loud 'thud.'

"Mozenrath's kingdom is filled with crystals that'll alert Desdane; and I'm not going to let Desdane take you or Carpet's power. Take us to the perimeter of the Black Sand; then we'll go in. You and Carpet will wait for us outside the city."

Carpet, who was standing beside Genie, slumped dejectedly, but nodded his 'head.' Genie sighed in defeat. "Ok, I'm with rug-man. We'll keep watch."

Al looked soberly to Jasmine. She nodded and walked back to Xerxes.

The eel looked hopefully up at her, but said nothing.  
"We're going to save Mozenrath," she announced.

Instantly, Xerxes plastered himself around her shoulders in a tight hug. "I find way repay, I find way," he said over and over. Jasmine couldn't help but smile at the sincerity of his tone.

Behind her, she heard Iago. "Eeeeewwww! Princess; get him off you! You wanna go to your wedding tomorrow smelling like filthy eel!?"

Xerxes cut off cuddling with the princess long enough to hiss and snarl at Iago and chomp his teeth threateningly. "_Filthy eel_ bite loud-mouth bird!"

"Who are you calling a loud-mouth-?" Iago was cut off by the onslaught of folded arms and frowns aimed his way. "Ohhh, uhhh, right." Then he added under his breath. "Going to the wedding smelling like eel…all of those rich snobs might just take their gold and go home-"

Genie gave him a look.

He fluffed himself indignantly. "I was just thinking of the princess!"

"Suuuure you were," Genie retorted.

"Guys," Aladdin cut them both off. He gestured for Carpet. He scooped up Abu and he and Jasmine came out onto the balcony with Xerxes still wrapped around her like a necklace. Al had never seen the eel look so grateful—_genuinely_ grateful at that.

Jaz patted his head. He loosened a bit and met her gaze.

"You're going to 'repay' us by guiding us into the Citadel and help us get Mozenrath out. We'd like to live long enough to get married tomorrow."

Xerxes eagerly nodded. "Xerxes help; Xerxes know way."

Al somberly nodded. "Ok, Carpet, get us there unnoticed."

Carpet took off into the wide, star-studded skies.

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Mozenrath felt his senses return in stages. His mind was swimming in a deep sea of disorientation, pain and emptiness.

But there was a sort of…void, inside him now he could feel. He grasped at his tattered thoughts and forced his mind to focus. Why did he feel so…detached? There were senses, awareness, and such that seemed to have abandoned him.

_Abandoned him._

Then it hit: his magic. The magic torn from him! He gasped for a breath, his lungs filling with the icy air of Desdane's lab, and looked up through bleary eyes.

His 'master' stood over him, an orb of brilliant golden light swirling just above his open palm. Mozenrath bared his teeth, fresh anger surging through him.

His magic; his _stolen_ magic.

"You _won't _keep that from me," the boy sorcerer snarled in fury.

Desdane looked truly amused. "Oh?" he asked casually and waved his other hand. A complex sphere of various precious metals manifested in it. It seemed to be constructed of joined parts, shaped like puzzle pieces; little round sections were scattered across it.

Mozenrath cringed. The Chest of Arbol; a magic "safe." It would only open for its master…which in this case was Desdane. If he placed Mozenrath's magic into it…how would he ever get it back!? There were no spells powerful enough to overwhelm it; it'd be sealed forever against him!

The truth was…he wouldn't get his magic back. Ever.

"No," was all he could say.

Desdane only smiled; with a word, he commanded the Orb to open. The many round sections turned and sank into the orb: the openings. The revolving light was syphoned into it.

"No!" Mozenrath cried; his magic, the very core of what he was, was being taken from him, bit by bit. He could feel the open cavities inside of himself, where his that magic once dwelled; now gone. Desdane was ripping him apart, from the inside out—again.

Pieces of himself, gone. He flexed his bone arm; yes, he was very acquainted with the feeling.

The round sections clanked back into place. It was the loudest sound the boy had ever heard.

"But, that was only a tiny portion of your power," Desdane smoothly avowed, leveling a conniving look at his apprentice. He released the Orb and it hovered in place. "The Orb will be able to take most of your strength. And after that…I have other ways to finish the task."

Mozenrath stilled. Yes, he knew exactly what could do such a deed. His magic barriers had partly held though; but, the Orb could be ruthless…it might work.

Where had Desdane found it? Mozenrath had sent that hated magic stealing relic into a far off dimension long ago!

Desdane smiled thinly. "The Orb is mine to command." He flexed his one hand…now gloved by 'Mozenrath's' gauntlet. "The same as this; no matter where you send them, they will hear my call and come to me." He waved at the Orb, which floated over to the younger wizard and stilled a couple feet from his head. Mozenrath forced himself to not recoil. Desdane smirked. "Your barriers were impressive; I'll grant you that, child. But…the Orb has taken magic from far stronger than you. It holds magic of greater strength than your own. Your resistance is all for nothing."

Mozenrath didn't meet Desdane's vile eyes. Yes, he could sense magic in the Orb…a particular someone's power who was now his own servant—

Xerxes.

And…Xerxes had bound his life to Mozenrath! The wizard's breath caught as a reckless, no, suicidal thought occurred to him. Would it work? He let out a slow breath; he'd risk it. It didn't matter now if he died…only if Desdane was killed too. It'd be worth it.

He shouted a word of command to the Orb.

It exploded.

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**A/N: **Well, hope you liked! Plz don't be shy; say something if you did; doesn't have to be a novel, whatever you feel like! Hold the flames though… LOL. Merry Christmas!


	11. Chapter 11: Dark Passages

**A/N: **Yep, author here again. Well, we're at 672 readers! Welcome to all my new readers! From: Spain, France, Jamaica, Poland, and my readers who have been with me a while now! You're all awesome! Thanks so much for your support. I also want to thank Finland for being 3rd place in countries reading this! (US 1st and UK 2nd). I never suspected there were so many Aladdin fans there; but you're always learning, right? Hope you all had a Merry Christmas and thanks for reading! Leave a review plz, for the writer Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 12- Dark Passages_

The force of the gold-white blast tore through the lab, disintegrating Mozenrath's enchanted shackles. He called the conglomerate of magic, now mixed inexorably with Xerxes's once formidable power, as well as his own, to himself; it morphed into a dark sapphire color as his body absorbed it.

Xerxes was sworn to his obedience; ergo, the magic mixed with his was too.

The Orb obeyed Desdane; what was in the Orb now obeyed Desdane's _apprentice_.

Mozenrath wasted no time; as the magic ripped apart the hideous lab, he saw Desdane shouting incantations to keep the magical onslaught at bay; the noise it made was deafening. It howled, thundered and roared like a hurricane, an army of cyclones and legions of wild animals. Mozenrath blocked out the sounds and gathered the force to his will, then launched it at his master. It slammed into Desdane with the potency of a nuclear bomb.

The lab's walls detonated; exploding into pieces and throwing themselves in all directions; smoke, debris, dust and fragments blew like a tidal wave into the obsidian night. Mozenrath was caught off guard by a caress of the chilly night air and the sudden sight of the black, churning sky after the smoke and dust cleared.

And the scarlet…_behemoth_ looking down at him with glaring eyes.

It gave a low snarl; a warning…but considering the massive size of the creature, it was still loud enough to make the boy sorcerer back away.

The sound of crackling rubble brought his attention back to Desdane…who was rising fluidly from the mangled floor, his robes covered in dust, but not so much as a scrape on him.

"Ah, you've noticed my Sentry," he drawled, his voice thick with patronization, "I summoned him from his keep in case you chose to…_misbehave,_ before my power fully returned."

Mozenrath was frozen. He hadn't seen the Sentry since the last time he tried to escape Desdane -around seven years ago. But, he remembered the creature's power well.

He also remembered though, he had nothing left to lose.

He cried out a command and sent navy-fire blasting at both Desdane and the Sentry.

The Citadel shook again as both hits found their marks; Mozenrath didn't waste the opportunity; he bolted for the door as both nemesis yelled in pain.

One more attack of power and the door was gone.

And so was he.

If Desdane wanted his magic, he'd have to come and get it.

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As Carpet flew them over the desert, Al and Jaz heard a rumble in the distance.

They both looked questioning to Xerxes, who was still wrapped around Jaz's shoulders, like a shawl.

To their surprise, he smiled with lit eyes as the desert shook.

"Oh, this good!" he exclaimed happily.

Iago, perched on Al's shoulder, rolled his eyes. "Yes, because sounds like that always mean a party's nearby; not a battle." He slumped, imagining all the nightmarish ways they were surely going to die.

Xerxes glowered at him, but it went unnoticed. "No. Mean master still _has_ magic; still _able_ to fight…idiot bird."

"Hey, _what_ did you call me!?"

"Guys," Al cut in, "Xerxes is probably right-"

"No 'probably;' _am_ right-"  
"Ok, fine," Al replied hurriedly, "whatever the case, it means we're not too late." The boy leveled a purposeful look at the eel. "What is the best way to get into the Citadel without being seen?"

Xerxes grinned smugly. "Xerxes knows way; _secret way_, into Citadel."

Al nodded; feeling his body un-tense with relief. "Good. Do you think Desdane will have closed it?"

Xerxes shook his greyish head. "No. Desdane no will see need; him very confident of own power. Not view intruders as threats."

_Which is why _he_ didn't make the magic-detecting crystals; but Mozenrath did_, Jasmine realized. But another thought glimmered in her mind a second later.

"Xerxes, will Desdane know what the magic-detecting crystals are there for? Maybe Genie and Carpet can come with us."

Xerxes shook his head again; this time adamantly. "No; no magic rug, no genie. Desdane know what crystals for; found spell book told master how make crystals. Him know why if they glow."

Jasmine pursed her lips; well, it was worth asking.

Beside her, Aladdin craned his neck. "We're almost there," he said, his tone soft and determined. He had that look in his eye, Jasmine saw, the one that said, _No matter the odds, we're gonna get this done—and get out alive. _The "Hero Look," she had dubbed it.

Iago called it the "Suicide Look." Jasmine liked her name better.

Jasmine nodded in reply and petted Xerxes on the head when she felt him tighten his hold on her shoulders. He wanted to save Mozenrath, but she still caught the little shudder of fear—of Desdane, the one who nearly killed him.

What had it been like to live with the wizard who had tried to end his life? Jasmine couldn't help but wonder. Had Mozenrath been forced to protect him from his master every day? Had he kept Xerxes hidden away—? Then epiphany struck again.

Or…is _that_ why Xerxes was always at Mozenrath's side; because that's where he was safe? Had Mozenrath ordered him to do so…just to ensure Xerxes stayed alive?

Jasmine wondered.

In the distance, the princess caught sight of a line of black skimming the horizon: black sand.

They were nearly there.

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Mozenrath knew he wouldn't get far; true, he had his magic back, and the magic stored in the Orb previously…but his body was so badly maimed from Desdane, his magic even augmented now with Desdane's victims, was scarcely able to heal him. His body seared in agony; barely able to run.

Desdane wouldn't take long in catching him.

It made no difference though; Mozenrath hadn't learned only magic from Desdane.

But also slyness.

He reached the library just as a cold gale came from nowhere, shrieking and knocked him to the black and ivory marble floor. His wrists and knees throbbed anew as they struck stone; he couldn't hold in the wail of pain.

Onyx smoke swirled into sight nearby, and formed the hated shape of his mentor.

"Sneaky apprentice," Desdane chided, grinning in amusement, "you _did_ learn well-"and Mozenrath was surprised to see actual pride in his face, "if only loyalty had been one of your defining traits." He sounded only half sincere.

Mozenrath didn't waste words; his only reply was a sneer and shouted command to the library.

Desdane no doubt, would 'love' all the changes he had made after Desdane's…departure: the warrior statues coming to life, the books now able to become horrific monsters, the-wait.

_Why was nothing happening?!_

No, it couldn't be. An awful realization slowly crept together in his mind as his master merely stood there, smirking…waiting.

"How?" was all Mozenrath could say. He was dumbfounded; it was impossible. The spells he had placed within the library could _not_ be overthrown; they _couldn't_ be!

Desdane only closed the distance between them, slowly, casually, the man who had all the time in the world; and he did—he was immortal, Mozenrath never forgot that.

Invisible claws pried him from the glossy floor and to his knees as Desdane regally halted a few steps from him.

The sharp sound of Desdane striking him, again, echoed in the domed ceilings of the majestic library.

"I see I must use my most extreme measures on you, apprentice," he said acidly, then his tone became almost bored. "But, it shall be nothing new for either of us."

Mozenrath's throat dried. No; when being routinely starved, locked in the dungeons, tormented by ghoulish creatures, and so on were almost daily occurrences growing up, 'extreme' measures were not a new experience.

Desdane offered him a… Mozenrath could only call it a ponderous look, and moved to a dark wood table nearby. Nothing was on it, but Desdane regarded it with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.

"You had so much potential apprentice, it is almost a pity to waste it…almost. However, you've proven over and over your defiance knows no bounds," he straightened and gazed coldly at the younger wizard. "And so, after I drain all of your magic…I shall make you immortal."

Mozenrath started. "Immortal?"

"Yes," the elder replied stonily, "that way you shall have all eternity to atone for your endless betrayals—as my slave."

A merciless chill took hold of Mozenrath. Not a mamlock then; not mindless…but aware.

That would be even worse.

Desdane watched the play of expression over his face. "Oh yes, child, but…" he gestured at the table and an ornate chest appeared atop it-

Mozenrath gasped; he remembered that chest.

Desdane chuckled at his reaction. "You recall this, do you not, boy?" Mozenrath did; it contained what Desdane used to shatter the defenses of the most resistant magical creatures he drained; it was how he had successfully drained a Phoenix's magic…and achieved immortality—a first in all of magical history.

What was in there was too hideous for Mozenrath to even consider ever releasing.

The Wraith Army was nothing in comparison.

He shuddered involuntarily.

Desdane smiled thinly. "My servants will have no difficulty in breaking you, boy. However, this time, I won't put you back together again afterwards."

It was like the walls had closed in; Mozenrath suddenly couldn't breathe. Desdane had him trapped this time.

"You will be sane, you will be lucid," Desdane icily assured him, "but you will also be irreparably _broken_."

The lid creaked as he opened the box.

And then there were only screams and impenetrable darkness.

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As the Citadel came into view, Carpet jerked suddenly downwards.

But they all caught sight of the scarlet…_giant_ standing before the front entrance.

"What the-!?"

Aladdin quickly clamped his hand over Iago's beak. "Shhhhhh!"

Iago gulped in terror of what they just glimpsed and nodded frantically.

Al let go.

They stopped behind a dune and everyone flightless hopped off Carpet.

Genie peeked over the dune, and glanced back at the group. "Uh, looks like Desdane has already done some redecorating," he said dryly.

Iago threw him a scathing look and turned to Aladdin. "OK, Mister Hero," Iago whispered sardonically, "how exactly do you expect us to get by the huge red monster!?"

Al turned questioningly to Xerxes.

The eel slid up to Iago snidely. "Xerxes show way in—if loudmouth bird _shut up_."

Iago opened his beak to tell off the smart mouth eel, but a look from, well, _everyone,_ stopped him cold.

"No time," Xerxes snapped quietly at Iago's almost reply, "if Sentry here, then Desdane gaining power fast. So, we need move fast." Without ceremony, he flew a short distance away, concealing himself behind the dune from the Sentry, and eventually led them to a large outcropping of tall rocks.

"Secret way here," he murmured, and used his tail to brush dust and sand away from a particular stone by Aladdin. I stood at least 80 feet high; it reminded Al of the Obelisk the Ethereal used to nearly wipe out Agrabah. He grimaced at the memory.

Xerxes cleaned out what looked like a gouge in the stone near Al's hand. They could see now that it was cleared, it was in fact carved, not weathered.

Xerxes used his tail to push the indentation inwards.

It grated softly, but slid in, then to one side.

Part of the tall, auburn monolith, receded a couple inches, the sound of stone skidding against stone reverberating cavernously, but then another part moved to one side, revealing a doorway.

"Secret passage into Citadel," Xerxes declared softly, and glided inside, "follow Xerxes."

As Al, Jaz, Iago and Abu entered, Carpet waved encouragingly and Genie whispered, "Good luck, guys."

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**A/N:** OK, so the team is on the move! Thanks so much for reading! Wanna send a holler out to Bane Wolfblood for favoriting me today! You're awesome; many thanks! Plz leave a review; I'd like to hear your feedback! That goes for ALL of you; now, repeat after me: "My New Yr.'s resolution is to leave a thorough review on every chapter for the author!" See? That didn't hurt, right!? LOL; y'all have a good night. Thanks again.


	12. Chapter 12: The Secret Apprentice

**A/N: **Happy New Yr. to all my lovely readers! Hopin' that 2013 treats y'all right! 746 readers to date! Wow! I'm sooooo amazed at this! I'm interpreting it as you're enjoying the story so far; please bring in the N Yr. right for the author: REVIEW! A very special thanks to everyone who HAS reviewed, faved, or is following! You guys make this **extra** fun and worthwhile! Thanks! Well, the gang is on the move! Let's catch up!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 13: The Secret Apprentice _

The hidden tunnels winding beneath the ominous Land of the Black Sand were surprisingly well kept, Aladdin noted. Constructed of dark grey stone, nothing like the auburn rock that held the secret doorway that opened to these corridors…it made Aladdin wonder if the tunnels were _totally_ artificial then. He couldn't stop himself from asking their guide.

Xerxes nodded, his eyes fixed ahead. "Tunnels made long ago. Ages old. No one know who make or why. Just know they here."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but Aladdin only nodded silently. They pressed on.

Iago's gaze kept darting around them, his eyes latching onto every shadow, every crevice, as if waiting for some hideous creature to leap out and devour them. Al couldn't withhold the thought that _here_, it wouldn't be impossible…far from it, in fact.

The silence began to weigh on them. Beside him, Jasmine fidgeted as they walked her eyes solid with resolve, but the quiet and the dark was unnerving her too.

Aladdin decided they had to keep talking, albeit quietly. "Xerxes, how did you find these passages?"

"Me not find, master find."

"How did he, then?"

There was a tiny glimmer of silvery-white light that illuminated the tunnels, eerily, no one could see the source; it was simply _there_: shining dimly off the rocks all around them, but not out of the rocks. It was bizarre. Al caught Iago look at it warily and shiver—Abu, who was seated on his shoulder, gave it a side eyed study.

But, he also caught the saddened expression that came over the eel. "Master…try to escape Desdane," he eventually said.

They all started. "What!?" Jasmine whispered, her eyes widened, "but why?"

"Desdane cruel," Xerxes told them, his tone sullen, "Xerxes see it. He beat master, starve master, all time try to make great sorcerer; master no want at first. Not care about power."

Al and Jaz traded incredulous looks. Mozenrath craved power; he longed for it like an addict; it obsessed him. The idea of Mozenrath _not_ lusting after power was as believable as Iago not pursuing gold or jewels; it was simply too fantastic to imagine.

"So, if Mozenrath tried to escape Desdane, why did he come here to begin with?" Jasmine asked hesitantly, "Didn't he know about Desdane's evilness beforehand?"

Xerxes's reply was blunt. "Master 'no come.' Desdane _take_ master; bring here, make him be apprentice."

Aladdin gaped. "Took him from where?"

"From home; from family."

Jasmine actually stopped at that point. Xerxes flung around, expression annoyed at her halting, but caught himself at her amazed countenance.

"You mean to say, that Desdane _kidnapped_ Mozenrath from his family?" Jasmine murmured, each word emphasized for clarity, "And brought him here, and _forced_ him with torture and starvation, and captivity, to be his apprentice."

Xerxes opened his mouth, and then closed it. Iago could have sworn the disgusting eel looked ready to cry. "Yes," Xerxes gloomily said at length, "Desdane take away master from home; like take me from home. No can ever go back."

Aladdin blinked at that. "But, why not?" Mozenrath could open world portals after all; they could search for Xerxes's home; and he had the smoke mirrors.

Xerxes lifted his gaze from the stone floor. "Because we can no _remember_ home. Memories gone; taken, no can get back…ever."

"Taken, by Desdane?" Al whispered, aghast. Taking a child's memories away…it was so _horrid_; Al felt his stomach twist in sympathy—for Mozenrath. He wanted to shake his head at the un-realness of it all. Was this all some warped and insane dream? It couldn't possibly be real.

"Master was _secret_ apprentice," Xerxes replied, "Desdane no let anyone know him here. Kept him in Citadel; no ever let out. Rumors whispered that old master had apprentice; but no one ever _see_ master, no one ever know for sure. Desdane careful about that."

"That's awful," Jasmine whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth; she knew what it was like to be confined her entire life. She hadn't been allowed to leave the palace for over 17 years; it had been forbidden to by her father. For all that time, she had never seen the outside world; she only knew there was an outside world from the books she read. True, she had dwelt in luxury, had been safe from any sort of danger (if one didn't count Jafar anyways), and had only known peace and comfort. But…still. She had never known _freedom_.

At least not until she had run away and met Aladdin. The first day she had been on her own…it had been _glorious_—at least until the fruit seller had tried to cut her arm off.

But even that had had a happy ending; Aladdin had appeared at just the right moment to save her. And then had introduced her to a whole new world.

As completely insane as it was, she actually pitied Mozenrath then. He had been confined, like her, had lived in luxury…but Jasmine had never known starvation, had never been locked in the palace dungeons, had never been beaten or tortured by anyone.

He had been.

Aladdin drew Jasmine close to her. He held her tightly, clearly understanding her feelings.

"It'll be ok; we'll get him out of here," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded against his shoulder; drew in a steadying breath. She heard what she could only call a 'wet' sound as Xerxes glided up to her.

"Princess ok?" he murmured, and she couldn't help but smile against Al's vest at his tone of concern. "Princess sick?"

Shaking her head, Jasmine pulled a little from her betrothed. "No, I'm all right," she assured him in hushed tones. "Just, this…just brought back memories- that's all."

Xerxes's face suddenly dropped all expression. "Princess _have_ memories; is good," he said in a hollow voice. He looked over them all, as if to affirm to himself they were unharmed; and he turned and moved on.

Aladdin glanced questioningly over to Jasmine.  
"I'm ok; really," she whispered with conviction.

Al only nodded, but his face was etched with the gravity of _knowing_. He kept a hold of her hand as they followed after the flying eel.

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"It's about time you came back," Sahid chided as Cassim strolled through the door to their chambers—his 'disguise' torn and hair disheveled. Sahid looked over his ratty appearance and leveled a reproving look at him. "I take it you had fun?"

Some of the men, sitting around and sharpening their blades, snickered.

One of the smaller men couldn't not comment. "Cassim, what's the matter? Didn't bring any of the party in a doggie bag for us?"

Laughter erupted in the room.

Cassim flushed a bit; Sahid, he often said was the true 'king' of the 40 Thieves; Cassim oft times felt like a small boy standing before an exacting father.

"You didn't just 'stay in the shadows.'"

Cassim offered him a smug grin. "I got bored. And…I needed the exercise; to keep me loose for tomorrow."

"You do love to live dangerously, Cassim," another man said with an approving chuckle.

Cassim tossed a casual smirk in reply. "It was hardly dangerous; only six of them and one of me. A warm-up; that's all."

Sahid merely shook his head. "We must talk. I have some thoughts about tomorrow."

Cassim raised an eye brow. "I'm listening." He already knew where this was going. Sahid had that '_I know you're keeping something important from me again' _look on his face.

Yes; the exacting father. Cassim sighed when Sahid didn't answer.

"Oh, all right, true king of thieves," Cassim said dramatically, earning more titters of laughter from the other men, "shall we step into my office?"

"Don't be too harsh with him, Sahid," a tall, skinny man snarked.

"Yeah, don't make him cry!"

Another roar of laughter all around. Cassim joined in; his men could be such children at times.

Children.

His laughter immediately died. He quickly covered his countenance though and gestured quite magisterially for Sahid to step into the next room. The shorter, older man merely shook his head and sighed before stepping into the adjoining chamber.

"Men, if you hear me yell for help-" Cassim jokingly began.

"Oh, don't worry, Cassim," an Asian man said, "we won't make any effort to rescue you."

The men buckled over laughing.

A very tall, large man with greasy hair flicked his head back. "Yeah, might mess up my new hair-do!"

"And my silk stockings!" another threw in.

Cassim raised his eyes to the ceiling and followed Sahid. "Ah, behold the 40 Thieves, in all their childish glory," he theatrically proclaimed; and was rewarded with more laughter and a collective shout of "Hoorah!" from his men, who all raised their swords as they yelled.

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Once the door was closed behind them, Sahid folded his arms and merely waited.

Cassim rolled his eyes again. "Why is it," he drawled, "that whenever you look at me like that, I feel like a boy of five?"

"Because you're as transparent to me as one," Sahid flatly rebuked. "Why are we really here?"

Cassim's face immediately transformed into the picture of seriousness. "I already told you why."

Sahid was soothed a bit by that. "The Oracle."

"Yes, after my …diversion, I made a few subtle rounds; the king I told you of? He did come for the wedding…and he did bring the Oracle as a gift—as I said he would."

Sahid seemed only partially convinced. "But…why give away such a relic?"

Cassim shrugged indifferently. "It will only answer one question for you and he and all his family had asked theirs. They had no more use for it. And…the sultan of Agrabah is a very dear friend of his—but the sultan lives too far off to be able to inquire to the Oracle easily. But, the sultan had long ago saved the king's life in a war; I suspect the king feels somehow obligated to repay him for that."

Sahid nodded, mulling over his friend's words. "It will be heavily guarded."

"Most of the prizes we go after are," Cassim replied with a confident grin. More challenge, more satisfaction in the victory, after all.

Sahid sighed at length. "Will you tell me why you purse this relic?" He eyed Cassim appraisingly. "It seems a bit much for you to come back here…after all this time."

Cassim looked away; he had told Sahid most of his past…Sahid was the only of the 40 Thieves to really know the truth about him. Most others just concocted stories about his past; some quite epic…others…well, not so much.

Though Saruk's tale of him being a nobleman escaping marriage to a hideous princess was quite amusing…especially _how_ Cassim had supposedly escaped:

Saruk had yet to explain how exactly 3 pomegranates, a rusty sword and a bowl of punch _could_ be used for that purpose, now that he thought of it….

"Cassim," Sahid said in partly restrained irritation.

Cassim was riveted back to himself. He realized years ago he would sometimes do that: reflexively distract his thoughts with other things when his past was brought up.

"Is this about your family? Your wife is dead."

It was blunt, but Sahid's tone was gentle; apologetic even, so Cassim could only sigh as the weight of grief resettled on him anew.

He flopped down in a nearby chair, feeling suddenly much older…and as though a mountain was set on his back. His posture, he knew, showed it.

"I know," he whispered eventually, "but…I never found anything certain about my boys. They simply…_vanished_, Sahid."

Sahid nodded; his own sons were kidnapped long ago; but he had eventually tracked them down—they had died; sold into slavery and worked to death. As horrific as it was to live with…at least he never wondered now. The not knowing was at least over.

Cassim didn't have that closure though; he never had.

"What if they are dead?" Sahid kept his voice as gentle as possible; one father to another; he knew the pain Cassim was enduring.

Cassim sighed heavily. "Then…at least I'll _know_. It'll…it'll be something. The constant wondering will be ended…finally."

Sahid nodded soberly. "Then, we'll go through with it; if anyone can succeed, it's you."

Cassim looked up and smiled.

Sahid could also be the encouraging, morale-boosting father figure—occasionally.

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**A/N: ** Hope you enjoyed; please leave a review! I promise not to stalk you or anything! LOL. Till next time!


	13. Chapter 13: Strategy & Hope

**A/N:** I'm SOOOO blown! 1,268 views!? Really!? Wow…. I'm just…wow. Thanks SO much for reading, and I hope enjoying. And welcome to my new readers in Ireland and Korea! Also, thanks to Finland, Italy and Denmark for 3-way tying for 2nd place in where my readers hail from! (US, gold ole' home, you're always in 1st! ), but I really didn't expect so many ppl to actually read this story. So…many thanks for that. It makes my week for sure! But, PLZ, stop being so shy…I'd love to hear from more of you; that thing about no news being good news? Yeah, not in this case! LOL; so please, leave a couple words about what you think. It DOES matter to me! Anyways, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 13: Strategy & Hope_

"It looks like the wizard brat didn't come willingly then," Iago muttered to Jaz and Aladdin as they continued to follow their grey-purple guide.

Al shook his head grimly. "No, I would never have guessed it," he confessed softly.

"Where do you suppose he comes from?" Jaz whispered, her gaze thoughtful. "He could be from just about anywhere."

Abu shrugged-his focus on their surroundings; years of stealing to survive had sharpened his senses to an edge swords would envy. No blade could match those little eyes, Al knew, catching his friend's wary gaze. Abu shrugged again, not in the least interested in Mozenrath's unknown origins.

"I'll tell you one thing, monkey boy," Iago put in, leaning across Al's one shoulder to where Abu was perched on the other, "if everyone is as crazy as Mozenrath in 'where-ever-he-comes-from-ville, they can keep the rest of 'em."

"Wuh-huh," Abu agreed, with feeling.

"Quiet," Xerxes hissed from ahead, "we almost there."

Everyone fell silent.

Jasmine hesitantly broke the silence though. "Xerxes?"

The eel glanced back at her, but said nothing.

"I…was curious," she said, but in a questioning tone.

"What curious?"

"Well, if Mozenrath tried to escape…more than once even, then why didn't Desdane just shut these passages off? I mean, he didn't build them to begin with, so why keep them? Did he need them for something else?"

Xerxes actually smiled. "Princess smart."

Jasmine actually blushed a little. Iago caught it and groaned, raising his eyes as if to ask, _How did I get stuck in all this?_

"Desdane did need," Xerxes replied at length, slowing a little to close the distance between them. "Him find passages, then discover relics concealed in them. Not want fill in till all relics found."

"What were the relics?" Aladdin asked.

Iago sputtered. "Not treasure I bet."

Xerxes glowered at the parrot, and then said, "No, not treasure. Better."

Iago's eyes lit up. "_Better?_"

"Yes," Xerxes countered in a tone of: _so there_. "Pieces of powerful spell."

Iago slumped in disappointment. "Not to change things into gold though I wager." He sighed. "Why do all the people with magic never know how to use it for anything _good_?!"

Aladdin ignored him. "So, Desdane never found them all?" _Good, if not_, he thought.

"No, but master did."

Al repressed a sigh. That was less good. "So, what does the spell do?" Best to know before Mozenrath unleashed it on the world. Genie could have time to devise counter-measures. They'd be ready.

Xerxes shrugged his arm-fins. "Not know. Master never say. Said was very powerful though; very dangerous." He seemed distracted suddenly. "We here."

They rounded a corner, and there it was.

A carved archway of the same dark grey stone reared high before them. Jasmine took in its very archaic design; the perimeter of it was embossed with carvings in some language she was certain had been dead for millennia.

Somehow…it reminded her of the runes she saw in Sadira's ruin.

Sadira…Jasmine sighed softly. She wished the sand witch was here; she'd be so helpful with her acrobatics and magic gifts—and endless optimism.

"All be quiet," Xerxes admonished them…but had kept his mis-matched eyes fixed on Iago when he said it.

Iago only harrumphed, and looked away indignantly.

Xerxes wasted no time, he pressed a sequence of raised symbols in around the arch, and the stone melted away into a slightly flowing rock, almost like lava; but it gleamed with the same unearthly light now as the rest of the passage. It hummed softly, almost like ocean waves.

"Follow," Xerxes quietly directed. He passed through the 'rock.' It made an airy, almost musical sound when he flew through.

Iago gulped. "Uhhhh…this might be the wrong time, but…what if this is a trap?"

"It's too late to go back now," Aladdin said, his expression etched in the Hero Face again.

Iago covered his face with one wing. "Let me know when it's over."

Abu met Al's eyes; he squeaked he was set.

Al took Jaz's hand. "Ready?"

Jaz nodded. "Let's do this."

They passed through together; and Aladdin found himself in a place he knew far too well: the Citadel of the Black Sand.

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Mozenrath was too tired and his body wracked with more pain than he had ever known before—which was a statement in itself—to force himself to fully come to. Pain imprisoned his thoughts in a foggy daze and shackled his broken body in white hot agony.

But what fragments of awareness remained were dimly certain he could smell the wet dank of a lower dungeon, and the biting cold digging into his back was surely the stone floor.

He partly wished though, he lacked the sense to know it was Desdane standing over him, his eyes regarding him with measured ruthlessness.

"You ingenuity is as boundless as ever, my faithless pupil," his former master said with a tone of charitable praise, "to actually invent new magic for walling off your power…a _most_ impressive feat."

Mozenrath blearily watched, his vision marred by blood and vertigo, as Desdane gestured towards the gold-stone walls; etched into them were raised carvings of hideous, ghoulish faces, torches lit their round, gaping eyes. Their large mouths, rimmed with sharp teeth, held an open hole leading to someplace…inscrutable. Mozenrath braced himself; he recognized this cell now.

There came a very low hissing moan as grey smoke flitted from the six creatures' mouths. Mozenrath felt the room's chill deepen to an unbearable, gnawing freeze. His breath, now visible, wafted up in erratic gasps as the streams of smoke solidified….

No; _not them_. Anything but them….

His throat closed in terror as Desdane caught his reaction and smiled mirthlessly. "Yes, traitorous child; what little of your magic my…_servants,_ upstairs could not extract from you…these _faithful_ followers of mine shall." He looked coldly to the six and they bowed to the floor. "Remove the rest of his magic…but keep him alive. And…take your time," he glanced down at the boy wizard and smirked soullessly, "I am in no hurry."

The heavy wood door creaked open on its own and Desdane swept regally from the chamber. Mozenrath heard the soft, malicious hissing of the creatures draw near as the door clanked loudly shut. This was the end; he knew that as surely he felt them close in around him, as surely as he felt the heavy metal chains weighing him down; it was too late now for escape, for revenge—

Even for regrets.

But…he _hoped_, desperately, that Desdane's minions would err and accidently kill him.

He was too weak to scream when he felt the first's teeth sink into his neck.

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Xerxes had become deathly silent as he led them down one dim corridor to another. Aladdin didn't wonder why; something felt…different about this place, compared to all the other times they had been here. A street rat was always aware of his surroundings, of the tiniest inkling of…something-anything. Usually it heralded the appearance of guards, or a watchful fruit vendor with a knife…Aladdin recalled the one time in his life he had let his guard down: just after rescuing Jasmine, he had been so enthralled by her, he hadn't noticed the unease creep up his neck right before Razoul and the guards ambushed them. He glanced around; trying to spot what was making his flesh crawl, like he was covered by hundreds of bugs.

"Cweepy," Abu muttered, his eyes darting everywhere.

"I know," Al breathed in reply. Jasmine's hand had long ago gone frigid in his; everyone was picking up on it.

He could only assume it was Desdane; no other possibilities were coming to mind.

Xerxes brought them to a particularily darkened hall constructed of large blocks of weathered grey-bronze stone. Before them stood an arch-shaped doorway leading down several fractured steps before rounding a corner and vanishing.

"Dungeon," Xerxes murmured. He sniffed. "Master down there."

Aladdin nodded resolutely. "All right, here we go then." He took a step forward only to have Xerxes hold out his tail, stopping him.

"What is it?" he asked, thrown off.

Xerxes sniffed again; his face was twisted by dismay, he swallowed. "Master…monsters down there…with master."

Iago, now hovering by Jasmine, yelped and hid in her hair. She patted him consolingly. "It's okay, we'll make a plan," she assured them.

"Need weapons," Xerxes said firmly, "weapons of dead." He wove through the air and passed them all. "Follow."

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Genie paced back and forth in front of the door he watched his friends go through an eternity ago. About six or seven steps away, Carpet sat on a rock, before him a small table Genie had poofed out after the others left. Atop it was an unfinished game of chess. He waved at Genie, and gestured to the board.

"I know, rug-man, I know," Genie conceded, "but what's taking them!?"

Carpet gestured to what might have been his wrist, translation: _check your watch_.

Genie poofed an ornate, Victorian style watch from a non-existent pants pocket. "Ohhhhh," he said, embarrassed, "it's only been two minutes since the last time I asked that." He chuckled nervously. "But…what's keeping them!?"

Carpet crossed his tasseled 'arms' and tapped a tasseled 'foot.'

Genie waved his arms in defeat. "Okay, okay, I know: it's my turn." He slid forward a rook only to have Carpet clap in excitement and check him with a bishop. "Ohhhhhhh," Genie moaned in dismay. "Will I ever win any games against you!?"

Carpet shook his 'head,' 'arms' folded.

"You're a more ruthless strategist than the King of Thieves," Genie grumbled, "okay, my turn again."

A minute later: "Ohhhhh! How did I not see _that one_ coming!?"

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**A/N: **Okay, so was gonna make this a little longer, but I feel bad for not uploading in a while so here it is. Plz be patient; I just finished enough homework to fry Einstein's brain, plus I'm sick w/ whatever crud is going around right now. A customer coughed in my face a week and a half ago and well…here it is. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and PLZ leave a review! Till next time!


	14. Chapter 14: Dagger of the Dead

**A/N: **Hello all; just a quick word to say I hope you're still enjoying. Thanks so much for reading and supporting. A VERY special thanks to all of you who've reviewed! It means a LOT to me. Anyways, as they say: Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 14- Dagger of the Dead_

Aladdin was caught off guard the moment he realized the double doors looming before them were nearly as large as the Citadel's main doors.

"Armory," Xerxes said to their array of questioning looks. "Here stored weapons to fight dead."

"Dead?" Iago whispered as Xerxes tapped the doors with his tail and they silently swooped open. "He said 'monsters,' before, I distinctly remember-"

Xerxes glared at him.

"Hey," Iago muttered furiously, "we volunteered to help you, wonder-worm, at least tell us what breed of monster's gonna kill us before we go to our doom, okay?"

"Iago," Aladdin chided, but Xerxes waved in dismissal.

"Xerxes tell," the eel bluntly said, "stupid bird 'fraid all things anyways."

Iago reared up indignantly on Jaz's shoulder, but she caught his beak and clamped it shut before he shouted and brought every mamlock around on their heads. He muttered from between her fingers; folded his wings in irritation.

Xerxes met Al's and Jaz's eyes before saying, "Monsters below…magic drinking vampires."

Iago jolted and squeaked in horror; Jasmine kept a tight grip on his beak.

"But what can they do to us?" Al asked, spreading his arms, "we're not magic."

Xerxes sighed, Al thought tolerantly. "Magic drinking _vampires_; drink _blood _and magic…magic is in _blood_."

Jasmine gaped. Abu leapt off Aladdin's shoulder and snatched the nearest dagger, waving it around and chattering bravely, saying in so many words: _bring em on!_

Al was actually surprised to see Xerxes smile in approval. "Monkey brave," he praised, and Abu blinked in shock; Xerxes took the dagger from him though. "But wrong weapon." Abu slumped and made some disappointed noises.

Xerxes led them to the far end of the Armory; Jasmine drank in the amazing size and scope of the vast chamber. It was colossal in size; easily bearing enough arms to supply several armies. As a sultan's daughter, Jasmine was well educated in the art of war (though it repulsed her to know war was considered an "art"), and the massive array of weaponry, clearly all flawless maintained and of the highest quality of make…the thought occurred to her that any ruler with such armaments would have no trouble conquering the Seven Deserts.

So…why had Mozenrath not succeeded then? Jasmine found her feet freezing at the thought; she glanced at the others as they continued on, obviously overwhelmed by the awe-inspiring chamber, and took in a measured over-view of the Armory.

She noted a corner dedicated to cannons; she mentally tallied every type of blade ever invented…in droves, archers' equipment, spears and javelins, plus an endless score of smaller weaponry…clearly from all over the world. And from the weird…vibe they were giving off, the princess had no doubt that most, if not all of the weapons before her were probably not merely weapons, but magic relics. The realization was daunting; it ran over her like a horse stampede:

Mozenrath should have won. With all of this; how had he not.

"You know how I've made a career of collecting magic?" his words once to Aladdin before trapping him…in a magic prison.

Jasmine swallowed. He didn't need Genie; he had never needed Genie. So…why?

It made no sense. Why endlessly plague a free Genie when he had all of this?

She was jarred from her musings by a hand on her elbow. "Jasmine?"

She jumped a little. "A…Aladdin," she stammered, and forced her stray thoughts to focus, "I was…um,"

"Xerxes found the weapons we need," he gently told her.

"Right," she said with a nod; all business again. She followed her fiancée past some ornate ivory pillars crowned with green marble to a very long table of mahogany wood. It was completely covered with an exotic plethora of weapons.

_Oh, what any sultan would give for such a variety_, she thought.

Xerxes hovered over a rectangular box sealed with four golden locks along the lip. He touched each one and they heard the tell-tale clicking of metal. The box opened on its own…and Jasmine gasped.

They were…beautiful. The inside of the box was lined with the finest emerald silk Jasmine had ever seen; it was embossed with fine golden embroidery, but the weapons. She reached out and touched one.

There were four sabers and five daggers; each was crafted of folded iron and layered with silver; each relic was forged in graceful lines and shape; gold and gems adorned each extravagant blade. Abu 'ooooowed' and Xerxes handed him a dagger.

"This right one, monkey." Abu took it with due reverence and felt the tell-tale shiver of magic in the blade. He gave it a test swing.

Aladdin took a sword and handed one to Jasmine. Xerxes flew off and Aladdin took a steadying breath. He picked up the remaining daggers and handed one to his betrothed, pocketed another—and offered the one to Iago.  
Ohhhh, no," Iago started, holding his wings in a refusing pose.

"You're going to need it."

"I'm only the encourager, remember?"

"Do you think the vampires will care?"

Iago gulped, hard and took the dagger. "We're soooooo gonna die," he moaned.

Xerxes returned, two items entwined in his tail; he gave one of them to Jasmine-"Magic whip."

Jasmine smiled. "Thanks." Aladdin gave him the last dagger. "Okay, we need anything else?"

"No; magic weapons of dead enough."

"All right; here we go."

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Saleen opened her large, aqua eyes and grinned. Her meditation had been a success; she had found a weakness in the boarders of this…_yucky_ Otherworld. Beside her, Armond gestured curious, with a tentacle; his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Oh, my snookims, you never lose faith in me; do you?" she crooned, stroking his large face. He shook his head emphatically. She giggled and added: "Now hold on, we're going home." She raised one elegant arm and with a wave and a word; they were gone.

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"Are you sure, wonder-worm, that we even have a real chance of saving the wizard brat?" Iago asked, his caucus voice soft, but sarcastic; Xerxes bristled.

The snuck down a lengthy, deserted corridor; sparse windows offered peeks of the outside. Jasmine tried to not think too much about how bright that red glow was she kept noticing.

"Master turned Desdane into mamlock," Xerxes replied after glowering his own "daggers of dead" at the parrot, "old master in mamlock form long time. Master drain his power too; Desdane need time for magic replenish. Now is best time save master."

"Is that why he has the monster outside?" Jasmine asked.

Xerxes nodded. "Yes; Sentry protect Desdane till has own power back."

Aladdin shuddered; he couldn't help it anymore. "Xerxes, what feels different about this place? I know something feels…off."

Xerxes sobered. "Yes; off. Desdane back; Citadel remembers what like under Desdane; is changing back to what was before."

Iago's eyes widened. "And how is that?"

Xerxes shivered. "More monsters; Xerxes can smell them…they coming back, one by one; all kinds monsters. Can feel them, all over Citadel. They know Desdane back; his presence draws them. They used live here; with us, before."

"What kinds of monsters?" Aladdin asked somberly, giving his blade a test wave.

"Ghouls, specters, shades, more mamlocks…sand serpents," Xerxes murmured in reply. Even with the feathers, Jasmine could have sworn Iago paled.

"Great," he grumbled, "new monsters means new ways to die. Glad I came in _this_ trip."

"Bird useless," Xerxes muttered, "should not have come."

Iago's feathers ruffled. "Oh? Is that so, slime-boy?" Jasmine blinked at how low and dangerous the parrot's voice was.

Xerxes glanced backward. "Bird coward. Xerxes see; bird never fight. Only hide."

Aladdin gave Iago a warning look before the bird could retort.

Iago's eyes narrowed. "Hmmp; I'll show you useless, worm-breath," he said under his breath.

Xerxes heard; but he only rolled his eyes as to say: _yeah; that'll be the day_.

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"Ugh, I can't believe you beat me again!" Genie whispered in dismay, clapping both sides of his face. Carpet only folded his tasseled arms and shrugged, saying: _well, what else did you expect?_

Genie snapped his fingers and the chess pieces reset to starting positions. "Okay, Ruggie; I don't care what, this time, you're going down."

Carpet tilted his 'head' back in an 'as if,' manner.

The ground around them rumbled.

Instantly the board was gone and the two friends were hidden behind their rock "seats."

Only a hundred feet or so away, something huge and very long rose from the sand; no, Genie caught himself, it was still under the sand, but whatever it was, stayed beneath it. For a moment he thought of the sand whale…it was about the same size…but no; far too long. The sand grumbled loudly and the sand quaked around them. The sounds it made were eerie; and Genie had heard the eeriest there was out there. But…this….

"What do you think it is, Ruggie?" the genie breathed to the other.

Carpet shuddered, then gestured he didn't know.

Whatever it was, it sank back into sand and the ground silenced.

"Oh, man; Al, hurry it up," Genie softly pleaded.

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When Al and co. returned to the archway that led down to the dungeons, they didn't stop this time. Weapons brandished, the soundlessly crept down the stairs, careful to not disturb any loose fragments. As they neared the bottom; Al peered around the corner and could make out four silhouettes standing near the closest of the doors. "Mamlocks," he mouthed to the others. Jasmine nodded; as did Abu. Al gestured: 1, 2,…3-

The leapt from around the corner and pounced on the four guards. Abu wasted no time and made for the lock, but Xerxes stopped him. "No, monkey, help hero."

Abu nodded and jumped on the nearest mamlock, sticking him with the dagger.

The mamlock instantly fell.

Iago hovered near the eel, his eyes were shut in terror and he yelled non-stop while waving his dagger at thin air. Xerxes touched his tail to the door and it opened; he then used it to smack Iago upside the head. "Useless bird," he rebuked. "Next time you stay home."

Iago opened his mouth to tell off the mouthy eel; but just then Al and Jaz finished off the remaining mamlocks.

"Okay, everyone ready," Al directed; he swung open the door and what was inside met their eyes.

Iago felt about ready to faint. "You're right, eel-boy; next time, I stay home."

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**A/N: ** You like? I hope so! Now things are getting even more fun. Saleen is out and the team has arrived! Yay! This is great fun; hope you're enjoying it too; PLZ leave a few words about what you think! I promise not to send any sand monsters or anything to your house! LOL…..


	15. Chapter 15: Vampires of Dorgoth

**A/N: **Over 1,300 reviews and counting; wow…I never cease to be amazed at the number of ppl reading this. All I can say is thanks; I hope you're all loving reading as much as I love writing this. Honestly, I didn't expect this many ppl to read…but I'm NOT complaining. Well, you know what comes next: onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 15: Vampires of Dorgoth _

Aladdin had faced more…nightmarish creatures than he could ever hope to remember—or want to. But, when he swung the door open leading to the dungeon where Mozenrath was perhaps breathing his last…he didn't expect this.

"You're right, eel-boy; next time…I stay home."

Aladdin pushed all distractions out of his mind and lifted his saber. Reflexively, he pulled Jasmine behind him.

Surrounding what he assumed was Mozenrath were six grotesque, ghastly…Aladdin couldn't call them vampires—at least not until they all reared up, each about seven feet high, and opened their fanged mouths, hissing…and showing the scarlet blood that coated their teeth.

Mozenrath's blood.

"Master," Xerxes whimpered.

Suddenly, Jasmine leapt out from behind Al and threw her dagger at one of the gargoyle-like creatures—and the dagger flew through it! Al was about to pull her away, convinced Xerxes had retrieved the wrong weapons for them…until the creature clutched its head, wailing loudly in pain.

"Weapons of dead," Xerxes reminded them.

Al and Jasmine ran forward.

As the pair attacked, the animals ran to Mozenrath. Abu forced himself to ignore the gory form sprawled before him and concentrated on the locks. He pulled out his own dagger and got to work. Xerxes watched for a moment, as if to assure himself Abu could free his master, and then nodded to himself, apparently convinced.

A moment later, he was in the fray, shrieking madly and waving his dagger at the vampires.

Iago hovered by Abu. "Hurry up, monkey boyyyyy," he whispered. The 'click, click' of Abu's work seemed deafeningly loud; any moment one of those…abominations…? Iago didn't even know what to call them. He assumed after all of Al's crazy adventures he'd been drug off on he'd be used to this.

Apparently not.

As he watched Al and Jaz expertly fight the vampires, who swooped around them, their unearthly wails clawing at Iago's ears, the parrot realized he'd never seen anything like them!

They were…spectral; their robes and bodies dark, greyish brown, ratty hoods covering their smoky, skeletal faces. They looked more like ghosts or ghouls than vampires…Iago wondered where Desdane found them. They slashed at Al and Jaz with long, boney hands set with knife-looking claws.

One of them got Jasmine. She yelled in pain as a vampire whooshed over her head and reached back, slashing her arm, shoulder to elbow.

"Jasmine!" Aladdin cried, running another vampire through. The distraction was enough. Another reared up behind him and sank it's fangs into his shoulder and another clawed him across the chest.

"Ahhhhhh!"

"Oh, boy," Iago muttered, tightening his hold on his own dagger. "I'm gonna die!" With that, he screamed as loud as he could and dived at the nearest vampire. He impaled it in the head and watched it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. He easily dodged the next and stabbed it in the face. It too crumbled. Xerxes closed ranks with him and together they went after the other four. Al steadied himself and helped Jasmine up; a moment later they got their second win and joined the others.

"Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!" Iago hollered as he insanely stabbed and slashed at the undead creatures. He didn't even know the battle was over till Al grabbed him and gave him a hard shake.

"Iago! Snap out of it!"

Iago slumped in his grip. Dazedly, he looked around; all the vampires were gone—retreated, he assumed. Everyone was standing in a circle; Al and Jaz were dripping blood.

"Is it over? Did I—I mean, _we,_ win?"

Al smirked knowingly. "Yes, Iago; they fled…thanks to you."

Jaz snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. Then she lowered it. "You were very brave Iago," she said; Iago was shocked to hear sincerity in her tone.

He fluffed up in pride instantly. "Ohhh, well; uh, think nothing of it, princess. Just doing my part to keep you safe. You know, your father would expect it of me; he'd reward…uh, I mean, _regard_ me highly for looking after you on this mission."

"Oh, bwovver," Abu moaned; and twisted the dagger again. "Ho-ha!" he cried as the last lock fell away.

"Great job, Abu," Al said happily; rubbing his friend's head. Abu straitened and gave his dagger a skillful twirl. "No probwem."

Xerxes gleefully flew to his now freed master. "Monkey do well," he exuberantly said; and then he spared Iago a measured look. "And useless bird not so useless."

"Hah," Iago sputtered, "and don't you forget it worm-face."

Jaz crouched down beside Aladdin. "How bad is he?" she asked with concern.

Aladdin smoothed some of the dark hair from Mozenrath's face. His pallor, normally alabaster, even in the poor lighting of the dungeon, was clearly greyish; Aladdin caught the teeth marks embedded in his slender neck. "We have to get him to Genie," was all he said.

"Is he even _alive_?" Iago put in. Xerxes snapped at him. "Hey! Worm breath…."

Xerxes swooped over to his master's head and placed his tail fin over his nose. Eventually, he felt the tiniest of breaths. His body un-tensed with relief. "Master alive. Still breathes."

Aladdin scooped him up carefully. He could feel the broken bones and his clothing was sticky with blood. Mozenrath's face was torn and his hair that fell to the nape of his neck was clumped in dried blood. "Let's go," Al said soberly.

Jasmine grimaced, her one hand lifted and clenched in worry, as Aladdin gingerly carried the boy wizard to the door and glanced both ways before heading for the stairs.

"We hurry, princess," the eel said, startling Jasmine back to herself, "vampires will alert Desdane."

"Right," she said stoically, "guys, ready?"

"Yeeeess," Iago replied with feeling, "let's get out of this madhouse."

They filed from the dungeon and Xerxes resealed it; Jasmine assumed to throw off any patrollers. They quietly retraced their route back to the secret entrance.

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Desdane stood before the gilt mirror he found his traitorous apprentice near when he first arrived and reclaimed his Citadel.

His Citadel; for it was always his, even eons ago when that accursed king opposed him when Desdane first came to the Land of the Black Sand and absurdly believed he could defy the Sorcerer Desdane! Well, Desdane reflected with a smirk; he had shown the old fool who was stronger. And then he had taken what was rightfully his: this kingdom, and all the populace and relics therein.

And soon, the rest of the Seven Deserts would follow; especially now that his rebellious pupil was safely cowed. That wretched child would not stand in the way; not this time. Desdane took in the position of the nighttime stars; yes, the vampires of Dorgoth should be through extracting the last of the boy's magic soon enough.

Well, the brat would finally prove to be of use after all; unlike his accursed previous apprentice.

Desdane waved at the mirror and it obediently opened a portal to the Nether Realm. He snickered when Aghoul came into view. The so called "king of the dead," (Desdane snickered again; as if the poor old creature could ever be _that_), saw him and started.

"Lord Desdane!" Aghoul stuttered, "I thought you were-"

"Dead?" Desdane cheerfully put in; he folded his arms in amusement, watching Aghoul collect himself.

"Uh, no; no of course not…merely," Aghoul clearly thought too much was said and changed tactics, "what makes you seek _me_ out?"

Ah; direct, Desdane did always prefer that. "Well, I couldn't help but wonder why I sensed your presence…_trapped_ in the Nether Realm?"

Aghoul sighed heavily. "It's a rather long story."

"I'm thousands of years old; take your time."

Aghoul frowned; but his eyes roved over Desdane's expectant expression and apparently deduced—correctly—Desdane would not be put off.

He began his tale.

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**A/N: **Ah, the plot thickens; well, hope you like! Leave a review! No flames plz though… ;)


	16. Chapter 16: Gilt Mirror

**A/N: **Well, glad to see ppl are eating up the latest chapters; hope they're to your "taste"! LOL; anyways, I'm trying to get these uploaded before I have to dive back into classwork. So…enjoy! Please review! Doesn't have to be long; a few words even will make me happy

Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 15: The Gilt Mirror_

Desdane reflected on Aghoul's tale as he sought his next quarry; finding her was a bit trickier as her pyramid was ever on the move. But, his Gilt Mirror had never failed him; and it wouldn't now.

So…a boy, a mere street rat no less, had fought Aghoul on several occasions after accidently freeing him from his spice prison. Desdane chuckled; he recalled the pretty sorceress all too well who had trapped him in the spice chest.

_All _too well.

But, this whelp had come along and unknowingly set him free; only, several battles later, to cast him into the Nether Realm instead.

Poetic; a "king" of the dead trapped in the land of the dead.

The boy had an ironic flare to him then; interesting.

Finally though, his musings were interrupted by a starry realm coming into view…and a large stone pyramid with a cat's head looming amongst the floating 'asteroids.'

His mirror tracked his feline quarry to her golden throne. She was engrossed in a pearly viewing sphere of her own; her eyes focused on…Desdane sighed.

Chaos; it _had_ to be Chaos. He shook his head; a true agent of chaos didn't need that wretched upstart cat messing in one's plans.

He hissed in anger; he suspected that vile creature was the cause of his last defeat…many millennia ago; and, he never trusted that twisted creature.

"Mirage, my old friend, are you requiring aid in your workings of evil?"

He smirked when she meowed a yelp of surprise and spun her lithe body around to face him.

Her stunning golden eyes narrowed as a snicker slipped from her small mouth. "Well, Lord Desdane, how _are_ you? Have you finally avenged yourself against the _boy_ who usurped you?"  
Desdane bristled at her silken tone; the sarcasm beneath was expertly laced—blasted sorceress. But, from her, it was to be expected.

And…she was exotic enough that he could tolerate it. Her rich voice practically purred as she watched the play of emotion on his face. "What makes you call at such a late hour?"

Desdane grinned. "Well, my dear, if I'm interrupting…."

Mirage waved the sphere away; it dissolved in opal-colored mist. "Oh, no," she smoothly rebuffed, "merely checking on things in another realm…I am always up to date on my information, after all." She postured for effect; it was perfect—curse her.

"I was wondering," Desdane offered, turning away in a façade of indifference, "if you had heard of the street-rat child who cast Aghoul into the Nether Realm?"

Mirage chuckled, but Desdane glanced back and caught the fire of anger that sparked in her mesmerizing eyes. "Oh; have I. You're referring to that boy Aladdin."

"Aladdin?" Now, why did that name sound familiar to him?

"Indeed; the boy has crossed my path on more than one occasion; disgustingly lucky child. You'd never imagine the sorts of things he's lived through."

Desdane raised a brow. "Oh? Do tell."

And Mirage did.

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Saleen returned herself to her mermaid form and seated herself before her lavish vanity. Behind her, Armond swam happily about; blissfully content to be home.

He always hated it when Saleen chased after that land-dwelling boy; why couldn't she be happy with him fawning over her!?

"Armony-poo," Saleen called.

The octopus was instantly at her side.

She pulled at chunks of the 'goo' still stuck in her quaff of shimmering red-gold hair. "Ugh, this will take forever to get out!" she wailed.

Armond shook his head; he pulled some combs and brushes out and immediately got to work.

He'd make her forget all about Aladdin.

She pouted as he worked; but found a nail file and applied herself to the task of ridding her beautiful nails of that hideous grime. "My poor hair, my poor nails," she lamented, "I'm ghastly, Armond…ghastly!"

Armond shook his head forcefully; she was always beautiful, he said through gestures.

She fondly patted his face. "Oh, my snookims, what would I do without you?"

He swooned at her attention; she noticed and giggled, returning to her nails. With an irritated sigh, she stomped a hand on her vanity. "I'll tell you one thing, Armony; when I get my hands on that wizard…Ooooooh! Will I make him pay!"

Armond nodded excitedly; yes, she was thinking about the wizard, not Aladdin.

That was just fine. He made a gesture with a comb of impaling him. Saleen laughed.

"Oh, we'll get to that, my snookims," she promised, "but, we're going to have some fun with him first."

Armond did a little victory dance and Saleen laughed again. "But, I want to look my best when tearing him apart…where's my lip color?"

Armond fetched it for her; content that life was perfect again.

No more Aladdin; just the wizard boy. And after he was dead…it'd just be the two of them, as it should be.

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Desdane mulled over his new information as the Gilt Mirror revealed scene after scene of this boy, "Aladdin," defeating foe after magical foe. Interesting; most interesting. Not a magical bone in his body…and yet.

Magic-workers fell before him. Powerful ones too.

Desdane's brow furrowed. How? How was it possible?

Well, one thing was certain: he would not defeat one upstart brat just to be triumphed over by another.

There was the Flying Serpent Malcho; Aghoul and Mirage had been outdone by the boy as well.

His own apprentice had lost to him.

Wait.

Desdane froze a scene showing when his pupil had found the Wind Jackal; the boy had his arm wrapped around Mozenrath's neck whilst standing behind them.

They…they looked so similar.

Then it dawned on him; no, it couldn't be. But…there was no other explanation.

He recalled his apprentice had a younger brother…and he was quite certain the boy's name had been Aladdin.

So…fate had brought them back together again. My, wasn't that…insightful. But, why bring them back together? Why had destiny ordained it?

Desdane could think of one reason: him.

The vast double doors behind him creaked open. He sensed his vampires approach.

"Well, my servants, is the boy relinquished of his magic?"

He heard thumps and sounds of impact; he spun around.

His vampires were sprawled in a heap on the stone floor.

And then, he knew.

The boy, Aladdin, was here.

Desdane clenched his hands into fists; well, how convenient. And the boy would die here too.

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**A/N: **That's it for now; hope you like! Plz leave a review if you did! Don't be shy now!


	17. Chapter 17: Bloodlust

**A/N: **Got the writer's itch; as if y'all can't tell! LOL; anyways, I uploaded the first chapter of my new Star Wars fic: Dark Assassin today. Plz check it out if you're into Star Wars. Anyways; let's not waste time!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 17: Bloodlust _

As they quietly slipped through the halls, Jasmine walked behind her betrothed; Abu was scouting ahead, as Xerxes had warned the Citadel was slowly refilling with the entourage of monsters that once dwelt here when Desdane was master the first time; Jasmine was covering Aladdin's back, as he was carrying Mozenrath's battered form.

When Mozenrath was a child; what had it been like to grow up in a Citadel of fearsome creatures? She took in the blood that saturated his clothes…had experiences like this been normal?

Jasmine had been raised with Rajah; or him with her, more accurately. But, she had been gifted him when he was a cub and she had been three. The thought had never occurred to her that he might harm her; even on accident, even though once he was large enough, he could have easily.

But, had that been the case with Mozenrath? Jasmine doubted it.

So, why had the monsters abandoned the Citadel when Mozenrath took over? Had they only been loyal to his predecessor…or had _he_ exiled them?

Jasmine wondered.

As she scrutinized every corner they crept past, the princess couldn't get the breathtaking Armory out of her mind.

He should have won; with so many armaments, he should have been guaranteed victory.

Jasmine was dumbfounded by it; mentally, she catalogued all of their battles: Dagger Rock, the Citadel with the Thurdac, the Wind Jackal, and so on. There had been many; and yet, now that Jasmine thought about it…Mozenrath had been clever, had been deceitful, powerful, _dangerous_-

But not bloodthirsty. He seemed to have been enjoying the battle and the banter that always preceded it; he never lacked for scathing one-liners, or cocky arrogance…but, had there been killing instinct? Bloodlust? Anything past a desire to stir up chaos and mayhem?

Jasmine bit her lip; he seemed to have at the time…but now, she couldn't say.

She wondered, for a moment, if he had ever actually killed anyone.

They reached the massive archway that led to the secret passage.

Jasmine shook her head when Aladdin gestured to her to go first. "You're carrying Mozenrath; I have a weapon," she objected quietly. Aladdin pursed his lips, uneasy, but nodded after a moment. Xerxes and the animals went next. With a final glance at their surroundings, Jasmine heard something move one level over them. She didn't know what it was…but it sounded _big_.

She passed through the portal, happy to leave the Citadel behind.

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Genie could barely contain his ecstatic relief when he saw Al and the others emerge from the passageway. He zoomed forward to hug his buddy…when he caught sight of what Al was carrying.

Mozenrath.

Genie felt himself turn white all over. "Uhhhhh," was all he could say. Carpet dropped beside him and peered closer at the wizard boy…only to smack his tassels to his 'face' in horrified shock.

"Can you heal him, Genie?" Al asked, his voice quiet and pleading. Mozenrath's blood smeared all over his arms and bare chest.

Genie made an _I'm not so sure_ face. "Al…I'll….I'll do my best." He finally said.

Al sighed in relief. "That's all I ever ask, Genie."

Jasmine dusted herself off, she was carrying her blade and Aladdin's. "We'd better move fast, before Desdane realizes we're here."

The sand suddenly exploded all around them; they yelled and Genie tried to shield them with his body as the sand quaked mercilessly. Everyone went flying…whether they had the ability or not.

Genie grabbed everyone and tried to make for open skies, Carpet ahead of him when a blinding flash of blood-red light slammed into them; they were launched by the force and practically impaled on the sands.

Moaning and grunting, Al and co. struggled to their feet—and tassels—as a magisterial voice informed them from every direction: "Desdane _already_ realizes you're here."

Everyone, now covered in sand, froze.

They stood at the base of a long dune; atop it a monolithic cyclone of scarlet light appeared, the wind it gave off easily driving the sand off them. Everyone covered their eyes from the blinding light.

When it dissipated into nothing; a very tall figure in black stood where the cyclone had been.

Aladdin had never seen the man before; but he had no doubt who it was.

"Desdane."

Desdane bowed, much as Mozenrath had when they first met. "As the _true_ ruler of this domain, I welcome you to my kingdom," he smoothly replied. Aladdin repressed a shudder at how silken, yet unbearably _evil,_ his voice sounded.

Genie stepped forward. "Don't worry, Al, I'll take care of this."

Desdane snickered. "Oh? Is that so?" He gestured—towards Sentry.

Genie stopped as the behemoth turned to them and roared, making the sand shake anew. "Oh,…yeah." He coughed. "Uh, kinda forgot about him."

Desdane shook his head. "Ah, you genies and your domestic powers; always so quaint."

"Domestic!?" Genie indignantly retorted; but the next moment he had to dive as Sentry opened his huge mouth and spewed red…Aladdin thought it looked like a mix of lava and fire, at his friend.

"Scatter!" Aladdin shouted.

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**A/N: **Yes; I'm ending the chapter here….lol. Aren't I mean; no actually it's cause it's late and I'm under the weather, not to mention tired. Anyways, my doctor prescribed lots fluids, rest…and REVIEWS to get well! So; c'mon, help a writer out here Thanks for reading!


	18. Aladdin Ch 18: Duel

**A/N: **Hello all; Eversotd here….duh, right? LOL; anyways, wow…1,630 readers to date!? It just blows my mind! What's really awesome too is that this fic is being read by ppl from about 18 different nations; which is SO epic! It shows just how well-loved the _Aladdin_ series really is. Anyways, the reviews continue to be positive (THANKS for that!) and I haven't gotten any outright questions about the story so far…just remarks about how mean I have been to Mozenrath—but the reason for that will come out eventually…lol. So…w/o further ado, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 18: Duel_

The behemoth Sentry un-wrapped it's long, muscular body from the Black Sand Citadel and reared up, brilliant lava-fire gushing from its mouth anew. Genie lunged at it, his blue body sprouting size and muscle; a fire extinguisher appeared in his hands.

"Now, smoky, don't you know only you can prevent forest fires?!"

The sky-scraper sized monster found itself blasted with white foam.

It shrieked maddeningly as it was propelled backward, its body twisting in a crumpled ball as it struck the onyx sand.

Desdane watched as the mewling humans and animals covered their ears at the Sentry's wails and the thunderous sound of its body connecting to earth. The dunes shook beneath the weight of the titanic creature; he sighed at the genie's absurd tactic.

"Domestic powers," he drawled, and gestured.

Silver chains wrapped around the genie at once; the immortal shrunk back to 'normal' size and with an empty blink of its stupid eyes; dropped into the sand.

"Oomph!"

Desdane turned away from him as he heard: "Ughhhhhh! Anti-magic manacles!? _Again_!?"

Well; now that that was taken care of….

"Now then, mortals," he addressed the 'invaders,' "be assured, you'll not be granted any of the leniencies you've no doubt come to expect from my traitorous apprentice."

And, for that matter, where _was_ the boy? Desdane's cold eyes swept the area; neither the brat nor the wretched fish were to be seen.

The fish.

Of course; he had shape-shifted them both to sand; they were merely part of the dune-scape now. No matter; he'd command the lands to give them up once he had dealt with the would-be rescue party.

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Aladdin watched Genie plummet to the dunes, once again bound up in those rotten chains. He pulled out his sword as Desdane smirked and told them he would show no mercy—in so many words.

Not that that came as a surprise, or anything.

Desdane wasn't 'dead,' but Aladdin hoped the enchanted sword would still have an effect on him.

It was the only option they had.

He charged.

As his feet pounded up the hill, he heard Jasmine pull out her own blade and follow behind him. It made sense; he was larger and had more muscle, but Jasmine was lithe and fast; if Desdane landed a blow on him, Jasmine would be nimble enough to dodge him and attack the sorcerer. Aladdin kept his mind on that as he realized the older man had the high ground…and therefore an advantage.

He had no idea what they were gonna do about the Sentry.

Carpet anticipated their move and swooped low around the hill Desdane stood on while snickering at the advancing pair; he came up behind the wizard just as Aladdin reached the man—and shoved him hard in Al's direction.

A huge burst of blue lighting erupted from the sorcerer, tearing through the boy and Carpet. Aladdin heard Jaz yell his name and smelled ozone as he went flying backwards into her, sending them both tumbling down the dune. Desdane casually waved at Carpet as he lay sprawled behind him; azure light engulfed the rug; he gestured again and Carpet was catapulted behind the youths; when he landed beside them he was encased in an enormous block of ice.

Jasmine spit out sand and felt something cold touch her cheek even as she realized the sand was biting into her open wounds. Her gaze was filled with her friend imprisoned in…_ice_?!

"Oh… Carpet," she moaned.

Invisible hands seized her and Al suddenly, pulling them to their feet and digging into their cuts and welts. Jaz couldn't hold in the wail and heard Al cry out too. Their feet kicked helplessly at open air.

"As you children can see, your pathetic mortal strength is nothing to me," Desdane frostily declared. "Now, I lament I have no further time for you."

Fiery blades blossomed around them; Jasmine gulped when she saw they were as long as she was. They were translucent, bathed in citrine fire.

"Al! Jaz!" she heard Genie shout.

_At least Iago and Abu with survive_, she thought even as a pit formed in her stomach. She looked over at Aladdin and her betrothed's gaze met hers. He stopped struggling, as if suddenly understanding it was over and reached out, enclosing his larger hand around hers. She felt her eyes fill.

They wouldn't marry tomorrow.

They'll never have children.

Her father would be distraught, never knowing why they vanished. Guilt, not blades, stabbed her.

_Oh, father, I'm so sorry. Never forget how much I love you._

She waited to feel the sharpness pierce her body. Aladdin's squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back.

The swords dove at them.

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**A/N: **So….I know I'm so mean for ending this chapter here, but, yeah, I'm just being mean, I admit it! LOL! *Cue evil laugh: Muahhhahahahahaahhaahah… (It's like Pi, never ending….). LOL. Anyways, my DEEPEST thanks for all the new reviewers/readers! Plz keep reviewing; I like knowing if/why/etc. you're enjoying the story. More to come! Thanks!


	19. Aladdin Ch 19: Sand Falcons

**A/N: **So, I know it's not Christmas, but I'm being both naughty and nice; last chapter was the naughty…now here's the nice. Hope you like; plz say something if you did! Feedback is a writer's Scooby snacks! LOL. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 19: Sand Falcons _

Aladdin met Jasmine's eyes, silently begging her forgiveness for agreeing to Xerxes's plea, desperately hoping she understood he never meant to put her in danger, hoping, even as the roaring blades threw themselves at them, they'd be together in the next life.

The poor sultan; Aladdin knew he had failed him _and_ Jasmine both.

How could he ever atone for this?

Just as the blades were a breath away…they vanished in wisps of golden smoke.

Desdane's rage was instant. "How!? _How_ could you-"

A woman's voice sounded from the sands, crying out in some strange tongue-

Aladdin started. He knew that voice.

The sand around Desdane erupted in mammoth hands, grabbing him by the limbs and a sand-serpent wrapping around his mouth, forbidding speech.

Sentry noticed and wailed a war cry, its crimson eyes scouring the desert for this new enemy. But her voice sounded out again, seemingly coming from every grain of sand, and the blackened sky over the creature came to life with azure and violet lightning…which shot down, impaling the titan monster in endless javelins of forked power.

Sentry roared in pain, twisting its huge neck to blast lava-fire back at the merciless skies; but the lightning was undeterred.

Another holler of strange words and Genie's chains vanished in a whoosh of silver light.

"Hoooor-rah!" he shouted, leaping to his feet and stretching. Instantly he was at Al and Jaz's side, poofing away their invisible manacles.

"Uhhhh?-" Genie 'asked' glancing around.

Desdane suddenly exploded from his sand-prison.

"No magician does that to me!" he cried and yelled out a spell.

Howling wind attacked them from all directions; Aladdin and the princess hung onto each other frantically to keep from blowing away. Genie tried to shield them with his magic, but the wind ignored his attempts.

"Deliver up to me the interloper!" Desdane cried, his hair blowing and his eyes glaring raw fury, "Deliver up to me the magician!"

But the wind sought and howled, fierce as a hurricane, when a slender figure appeared beside Aladdin, grasping a carved, golden spear topped with a kite-shaped ruby in its gloved hand.

The wind was instantly gone; Desdane's eyes widened—he recognized _that_ Spear.

Al and Jaz caught sight of the newcomer. She wasted no time though…with a hollered spell, she threw the Spear at Desdane…but at the last minute it veered over his head—embedding itself instead in Sentry's chest.

With a howl louder than any before, the Sentry clutched its chest where the Spear impaled him and vanished into his scarlet form. Writhing and contorting madly, it shrieked and shrieked before finally falling face first to the sands—and laid still.

Desdane's face was twisted in a horrifying mask of enraged shock. But even as he riveted his attention from his minion to the magician, new shrieks chorused from behind him.

Falcons, at least 50 total and each four times the size of genie, composed entirely of…_bronze_ sand, flew from over the dunes and viciously assaulted Desdane; striking his face with their massive wings and slashing at him with arm-length talons.

As Desdane yelled spells and fought the sand-falcons, the figure, draped in a full-length emerald cloak trimmed with gold runes, grabbed Al and Jaz's hands before uttering another spell.

They were all suddenly consumed by sand and emerald light…and then gone.

Desdane glimpsed as much and yelled in rage before casting a spell that made the falcons explode.

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When Aladdin felt the magic set them on solid ground again, he opened his eyes…and had never been happier to see…Jasmine, alive and whole, in his arms.

"Jasmine," he whispered, not caring in the slightest what just happened or where they were, but only held her as tightly as he dared, his lips against her ear, "I'm so sorry; I was so stupid to let-"

"No, no you weren't," he heard her say firmly back, "it was the right thing to do."

"We were nearly killed-"  
"We're always nearly killed-"  
"But this time-"

Someone coughed loudly and they reluctantly parted. Aladdin took in their surroundings.

The important thing was, firstly, Jasmine was in his arms. Second, across from him stood Genie, who was holding Carpet—no longer frozen in ice, thank goodness- and perched on Genie's shoulder Iago was brushing sand off himself, muttering about nearly getting killed again.

Aladdin blinked, terror rising in his gut. "Where's-!?"

Abu chittered loudly, appearing from behind Genie before gleefully bounding up Al's leg to his arm and finally his shoulder. Al felt his body un-tense and he patted the little monkey's head.

"Well, that's a relief," he said after exhaling loudly. He glanced around, before his eyes settled on the cloaked figure—standing before Mozenrath, who was lying at her feet; Xerxes hovered nervously nearby.

"This friend?" the eel anxiously asked him, "this wizard a friend?"

Aladdin exhaled again; the relief of being safe with his friends and Jasmine deluging him like a tidal wave. "Yes, she's a friend." His gaze met the dark sapphire eyes mostly concealed within the emerald hood.

"Xerxes," Aladdin avowed as the magician drew her hood back, "I'd like you to meet Sadira."

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**A/N: **Well, that's it for now; I open the store tomorrow and it's almost 1am. Enjoy! Leave a review plz!


	20. Chapter 20: Lady of the Ruins

**A/N: **Hello all; first off, a BILLION thanks to all the reviews I received on the last few chapters! I was SOOOOOO incredibly thrilled; so to all reviewers, new and returning, you guys REALLY made my day and I want u to all know how deeply appreciative to you all Anyways, this story is sitting at 1,832 readers to date; so let's keep going! And for all of you out there who have not reviewed yet, I hope this next chapter is good enough that you'll feel compelled to leave a few words Thanks, and onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic: Ch. 20- Lady of the Ruins_

Jasmine didn't recognize the chamber she and the others found themselves standing in when Aladdin hesitantly took a couple steps back.

It was large with a high ceiling and circular in shape. Dark grey stone—much like the secret tunnels that led them to the Citadel, the princess noted—made up the walls; the floor, unsurprisingly, was sand and scattered around the chamber were stone tables holding an assortment of scrolls, relics and bound leather books. Her brown eyes met the cobalt of their rescuer's as Aladdin introduced Xerxes to the magician who had snatched them from certain death.

Sadira: witch of the sand.

She pulled off her ornate emerald cloak, woven of a very fine silk and set it on a nearby stone bookcase and knelt down to examine Mozenrath.

"Who is he?" she asked, never one for preamble.

"His name is Mozenrath," Aladdin told her, closing the distance and crouching down on across of her, "we snuck into the Black Sand's Citadel and broke him out of their dungeons."

Sadira's brushed dark hair away from his neck. She flinched when she saw the gouges; teeth marks from the magic-drinking vampires.

Jasmine found her curiosity threatening to overwhelm her, but was too aware that Mozenrath needed healing, and quickly, so she bit back her onslaught of questions and instead asked: "What can we do?"

Sadira's intense gaze swept over the wizard, her eyes narrowing after a moment and un-focusing—sensing his condition through magic, Jasmine intuited.

"He's been tortured…_badly_," the magician said at length, swallowing hard, "and he's been fed off of-"

Jasmine winced; realizing Sadira was heavily editing the truth, wanting to spare them the worst of it.

The sand witch rose, her lithe body fluid and graceful. "Aladdin, if you could carry him to the bed over there," she gestured to her far right, where a simple one-person cot with pillows and blankets was tucked into a corner, "the rest of you can help me gather supplies."

No command, no orders, only the request of a friend. Jasmine, Genie and the animals gathered around her as she succinctly delegated tasks, gesturing to various cupboards, shelved and chests of where her array of healing tools was kept.

Quickly enough, Mozenrath was set upon the pastel-colored blankets and cotton pillows and Sadira was hard at work, grinding herbs into a paste, cutting bandages and such. Genie was assisting, poofing a Bunsen burner and bottles onto a small table beside the bed for preparing elixirs.

Around her, sitting on large pillows, Aladdin and Jasmine held hands, both still shaken by their brush with demise. Abu and Iago shared a chair; Carpet hovered near Genie, watching keenly. Xerxes lingered beside his master.

Everything seemed to have settled down enough that Jasmine felt it was all right to satiate her plaguing curiosity. "Sadira, how did you know to come for us?"

Their friend didn't break tempo as she answered, "I arrived at the palace just in time to see your father throwing a fit and ordering the guards to begin a search for you." Her tone was sharp with reproof and Jasmine put her head down; she knew her father would react so.

It didn't help squelch the piercing guilt though.

"I stopped just short of greeting him, came back here and used my sand mirror to find you all." She still didn't halt her work, but her movements became rigid with anger. Her light coffee-colored skin was pinking also. "May I ask what you all were doing in that kingdom, about to be impaled by fire-blades and fed to a monster?"

Jasmine sighed, fresh feelings of conflict yanking at her inwardly from every direction. She told Sadira about how Xerxes came to them, all he had told them about Desdane's return and Mozenrath being imprisoned and tortured. She only added a few details about what Xerxes had intimated about the wizard's childhood. Somehow, it felt too personal to go into it at length.

"Why didn't you tell your father?" was all Sadira questioned when she finished.

Jasmine knew why Sadira was centering on that: she had never known her father—or mother for that matter. Jasmine had always felt sorry for her on that score; she had lived in luxury her entire life; confined yes, and her mother had died giving birth to her…but she had always had her father.

And Sadira envied her that; she envied her over many things, for that matter.

It always made Jasmine feel guilty; she hadn't asked to be born royal, hadn't forced Aladdin to love her, or her father for that matter. It had merely happened—and had Jasmine been given her way, much about the world would have been different.

Sadira, for instance, would have had both of her parents, and a comfortable life of her own.

And Sadira knew that too; which is why she had returned Jasmine's overtures of friendship…despite all else that had happened between them.

"Father would have forbidden it," Jasmine softly replied; it was a weak answer, and everyone knew it.

"Look, it was my fault," Aladdin put in suddenly and Jasmine opened her mouth to rebuff it, when Iago cut in.

"It was both of your faults," he snapped, and pointed at the others in turn and all of you too; I wanted to stay home, but noooooo, we had to go save the crazy wizard from the other, even _more_ crazy wizard! We had to go off and nearly get killed again. What's with all of you and this stupid need to constantly be suicidal?! I mean, can't you even just _try_ to be cowards, just once? If you don't like it, you could always go back to being heroes again!"

Sadira chuckled. Everyone else blushed and-or shook their heads.

"All right," Sadira mock-grumbled after a moment, "I'll let you all off the hook _this _time-"

"Good, so no soup then, right?" Iago asked bluntly.

"Keep interrupting and I'll make some," Sadira lightly returned and Iago instantly clamped up.

Aladdin was looking around. "Sadira, where are we?"

"In one of my ruins," she said simply, "this one is outside of Agrabah, just west of my tower; it was the closest one to transport us all too. It's heavily warded; we'll be safe here at least the night." She tested a bandage she just wound around Mozenrath's flesh arm. "I don't want to try moving him at least till morning."

Meanwhile, Genie finished with whatever it was he was heating on the table. It looked like a magenta liquid, marbled in color though. He expertly poofed two cups into existence and poured half of the potion into each cup. He turned to Al and Jaz.

"Here you go guys; bottoms up," he cheerfully said.

Al frowned, confused. "What is it, Genie?"

"A potion to heal your injuries," Sadira told them, still focusing on Mozenrath, "you were cut by undead creatures; it'll take powerful magic to mend those wounds."

Al took a cup and sniffed it; wrinkled his nose. "It smells terrible."

Genie gave him an apologetic look. "Well, Al, you don't _have_ to drink it, but…Uhhhh…"

"'UH' what?"

"You'll turn into the undead yourselves," Sadira flatly said, finally facing them and planting her small hands on her legs. She was kneeling at the bedside. "You were cut by the undead; that's how it works: they cut you…you become one of them. Or…you drink the potion."

"Hey," Iago put in, "look at the bright sides: one, _Genie_ made it; two: it's not soup."

Sadira leveled Iago a scathing look. "I'll have you know my soups have improved a _lot_ during the last few months."

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it…oh no! NO! I mean, when I see _someone else_ eat it…and survive."  
"You _did _survive."

"Just barely."

Another glower.

"Okay, okay," Jasmine conceded, just to make the arguing stop, "we'll drink it."

She and Aladdin plugged their noses…and drank the awful brew.

Jasmine made herself imagine the fine wine they'd partake of the upcoming afternoon.

Because this definitely wasn't it.

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Desdane watched the lazy night breeze wash over the dunes; he listened to the massive vacuum of silence, only gently interrupted by the breeze stirring up the sands.

Sand.

A sand witch; he had recognized those accursed spells. The meddling power of those insufferable creatures he had disposed of so long ago.

Or so he had thought.

He took a deep, contemplative breath; but, this girl…she was but one.

And his previous apprentice, wretched, traitorous creature she had been…won't be there to interfere this time.

His cloak made a loud snapping sound as he regally turned and vanished in scarlet mist.

He had much to do.

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The wounds, thankfully, closed up and disappeared just after Al and Jaz gulped down the last drops of the grotesque brew; Jasmine was half-convinced Sadira told Genie to make that particular potion as punishment for worrying the sultan.

It would be like her; sneaky and underhanded she excelled at…when she thought the need arose.

Jasmine plunked the empty tan cup back on the 'brewing' table. "Okay, you've chastised us," she said, and twisted her lips at Sadira's "innocent face."

"Why did you ward this place?" Jasmine pushed ahead, not being baited.

Sadira gave her a half-disappointed look and tied the final bandage on Mozenrath. Jasmine had to admit, she was impressed. The boy wizard no longer looked like…well, and escapee from a torture chamber. He was clean, dressed in a simple, floor length navy robe and his wounds bathed, salved and bandaged.

Jasmine felt muscles un-tense that she hadn't even realized were knotted up. He would heal; somehow…she simply knew that.

Genie and Carpet had gone outside to keep watch; Sadira admonished them to stay in the shadow-side of the dunes…but Genie had insisted he would feel better if someone was guarding…just in case.

Sadira gracefully stood and stretched her objecting muscles. "I've been traveling these last few months-"

Jasmine nodded; she knew that. Sadira had been traveling off and on for the better part of two years now, learning to hone her magic…and taking in the wonder of new places and new things.

New experiences; Jasmine had seen the difference. It had been obviously good for her.

"But," Sadira went on, looking contemplatively at the floor and not seeing Jasmine's reflective expression, "all the while, I felt…something, growing in the Land of the Black Sand. Something…ominous; but I couldn't place what…until tonight."

"You sensed Desdane return?"

A shake of the head. "Not exactly. I felt…some force, _explode_ almost, within that kingdom. But…it felt both dead…_and_ alive…so I didn't understand it. But…we all knew about the planetary convergence tonight and the possibility that something could happen. I just knew after feeling it I had to get back here as soon as possible."

Jasmine let out a breath; grateful that Sadira had done exactly that. But then a thought occurred to her. "The planetary convergence…what do you mean…you knew _something_ could happen? Because of the extra power being unleashed?"  
Sadira nodded. "Yes. It's especially dangerous when different worlds draw near each other at times like this. But, we'll be safe in about 8 days."

Jasmine blinked and Aladdin jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, 'in 8 days'?" Aladdin demanded, trepidation saturating his voice.

Sadira pursed her full lips. "Well, the planetary convergences aren't usually a one-day event, like an eclipse. The planets are all always moving…in the right sequence they can stay fixed in a convergence pattern for a long time. There are a lot of variables in play." She shrugged helplessly.

"And what does that mean?" Aladdin's tone said it: he already knew the terrible answer, but wanted someone to say it, just so there was no doubt.

Sadira let out a resigning sigh. "It means that so long as the world's remain as they are; any magician with enough power can use these next 8 days for basically…whatever they want."

Jasmine shut her eyes; truth's full, horrible weight settling on her like a mountain…no, a whole mountain range. "And, opening portals? That too?"

"Yes." Was the sober answer.

She heard Aladdin sigh; he was feeling the same weight, she had no doubt.

She felt him take her hand; needing that feeling of being 'centered.'

"What can we do?" she heard him say after a full, heavy moment.

"Wait it out," Sadira gravely, but gently told them, "I don't have the power to stop every sorcerer from opening every portal; we can only deal with things as they come."

Jasmine grasped at straws. "But…you warded this place from Desdane," she objected, "surely that means you have some idea of his power, what he's capable of."

Sadira's eyes widened; Jasmine blinked at that. Why did Sadira look as though she was…_remembering_ something?

"Oh," she said, her voice thick and portentous, "believe me; I know in full what he's capable of."

Al and Jaz traded bewildered looks.

"But…how?" Jasmine asked, lost.

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**A/N: **So, how does Sadira know? LOL; you'll have to wait and see? Still enjoying? Liking so far? Plz let me know! Till next time!


	21. Chapter 21: The Seeing Gaze

**A/N: **Hello all; aren't I being nice? Giving you another chapter so fast? LOL; no, actually it's because I've got SOOOO much homework coming up and this is really my chance to upload. So…here we go! Don't forget…Plz review!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 21: The Seeing Gaze _

Sadira put her head down, looking as though reluctant to reveal how…when the ruin suddenly quaked! Everyone lost their footing, though Al and Sadira regained theirs the quickest.

_Being street rats did have advantages_, Jasmine thought wryly, grabbing a nearly wall.

Genie and Carpet both flew in at breakneck speed; Genie was bleach-white and his heart was literally pounding hard enough to be visible. Sadira ran to an old wooden chest and flung it open. Out of it she drew a long scepter with a golden claw clutching a dark rose stone. She waved and her emerald cloak darted to her and wrapped itself around her body. She stood her ground, bravely looking at the ceiling; no, Jasmine caught herself.

She was looking through the ceiling; her eyes had that un-focused gleam to them.

"You do not want to know what's out there," Genie exclaimed, diving under a toppled table, to join Carpet and the animals that had already hidden themselves there.

"I can just imagine," Iago muttered grimly.

Outside, loud wails pierced the night; terrifying shrieks and loud roars of things…most definitely unearthly, Jasmine thought, tore through the air and clawed at her ears.

Sadira's eyes narrowed. Jasmine felt goose-bumps ripple across her arms and back. She glanced at Aladdin; he had found a sword and was holding it with one hand…his other clinging to a stone table for support.

"He's seeking us," Sadira said over the blaring onslaught of noises, "but my wards _will _hold. They will."

She raised the tip of the scepter a bit higher, covering her bases.

Xerxes meanwhile, was trying to shield his master with his little body; debris from the already broken stone ceiling was drifting down and covering him in dust and tiny bits of rock.

Mercifully, the shaking eventually died away. Silence once again reigned.

"I can see why Jafar steered clear of that guy," Genie said, shifting back to blue, but still clearly rattled. Carpet nodded in agreement.

Iago dusted off his wings. "We had to save the wizard brat, we couldn't stay home; we had to-"

Everyone—except Al-glared at him.

He flung his wings up. "I was just saying!"

"Wu walwaayz sawyin," Abu muttered, crossing his arms.

Aladdin put down the blade and wordlessly sat in a niche by Mozenrath's bed. Xerxes was cleaning the debris off his sleeping master; not paying attention to anyone else.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Jasmine asked.

Sadira shook her head. "No; his magic gaze failed to find us. It was a gambit; now he'll wait until we show ourselves." She turned back to Mozenrath, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "He must really want this wizard bad."

Iago sputtered. "The brat who betrayed him!? _Yes_; didn't you ever hear the story of what he did to his _last _apprentice?"

Everyone but Al riveted their attention to him. "I…didn't even know he had an apprentice before Mozenrath," Jasmine confessed.

"So no one's heard the tale?" Iago expectantly said. An entourage of shaking heads. "Good. It's not a story you _wanna_ hear."

Sadira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Really? It was that bad?"

Iago nodded, picking debris from his feathers.

Sadira let out a steadying breath, as if preparing herself for something.

Jasmine cocked her head. "Sadira, what is it?"

Sadira knelt back at the bedside. She placed a hand over Mozenrath's forehead. "I just had a thought: I never checked him for mental torture." Grimly, she exhaled again and closed her eyes.

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Sadira had grown up in the harsh life. She had long envied men for at least being men—they didn't have to constantly be on the lookout for brothel "recruiters," and human traffickers who would sell her to an even worse life than she already knew. She learned one thing early on:

Always think of every possibility, anticipate all angles.

Something as simple as stealing a melon could easily become a literal race for survival; add in sword-waving guards hot in pursuit with prison plus possible hand-removal in your future if not careful—yep; think of everything.

So…why didn't she predict this? She berated herself as she knelt beside this 'Mozenrath' who couldn't be much older than her…and while obviously handsome and high born, even mangled as he was, had somehow landed in a situation not too different from her daily grind.

Angering the wrong person; crossing the wrong man in power…and so on and so on.

Why did she feel like he knew all too well what harsh life meant? Even growing up as a royal and heir to a kingdom?

She placed a hand on his forehead…now cool—good; that meant the fever had broken—and took a deep breath.

She plunged into his memories.

And straight into hell.

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**A/N: **Sorry, I know it's short…but I have a looooong day ahead of me tomorrow…and I need to be up in 4 hours. So, time for ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ….. And please enjoy! Leave a review!


	22. Chapter 22: Pathways of Remembering

**A/N: **Wow! 2,029 readers! I'm SO floored! It's been really overwhelming to have so much positive feedback on this story…my thanks to all of you for that. But, I want to send a special holler out to some VERY supportive ppl who have been really encouraging me to keep going and make this story all it can be: hpets25, FoxCort24, putscheschka, Jessenia and rollingbell. Thanks a billion for all your fabulous feedback, input and all else. You ppl ROCK so much and you've made writing this soooo much more fun and gratifying for me; thanks again.

Anyways, as always I appreciate all of you reading; PLZ leave a couple words though if you haven't already. I would love to know what the rest of you think! Anyways, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 22: Pathways of Remembering _

After the ground ceased to shake violently under their feet, Aladdin found himself detachedly putting his blade down on a nearby table and planting himself on a cushion near Mozenrath's bed.

Vaguely, he heard talking, but it seemed muddled and far away.

The quaking had done more than just rattle them all; it had cast Aladdin back about 14 years, to the night Farid had been taken.

He was certain of that now; Farid had not been killed that night.

He had been abducted.

A hand softly grasped his shoulder. "Al?" a familiar voice questioned.

Aladdin couldn't stop himself from swallowing a massive lump wedged in his throat. "I remembered, Genie." He had felt his lips, suddenly dry, form the words, but he was numb, somehow partially removed from his own body.

Genie's voice was incredibly gentle. "Remembered what, buddy?"

Al's head went down. "The night my brother was taken-" he waited for Genie to interrupt with an: "I didn't know you even had a brother," but went on when he didn't, "I used to believe he was killed that night…nothing else made sense. But now…I know he wasn't."

A cushion poofed into existence next to Al's; Genie sat himself on it, his hand not leaving his young shoulder. Al was trembling.

"How do you know, buddy?"

Al told him.

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Jasmine watched as Sadira placed a steady hand on Mozenrath's forehead, and took a deep breath, preparing to enter his mind. All the while though, she kept a close watch on her betrothed.

Aladdin looked shaken; very much shaken.

She had heard him mention his brother, and something about remembering differently now.

_What did that mean?_

As Sadira closed her sapphire eyes to examine their foe for mental damage—Iago was muttering something in the background about: '_why would you need to check him for that!? We all already know!_—Jasmine headed for Al, sensing he needed comfort.

It's not that she didn't trust Genie; she just wanted to be there for him too. But even as she took two steps, Sadira screamed.

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Desdane found himself retracing the path those wretched children had taken in infiltrating his domain. He had found the secret passage they had discovered…no doubt with that accursed eel's help, resealed it with new spells—plus a few 'pleasant' surprises should they try to use it again; and after freshly warding all other ways they may try to call upon in the future…found himself pondering in the Armory.

The Armory. He had not considered it much before now; as he gaze roved the…_monument_ of weapons and such his apprentice had discovered since 'defeating' him, Desdane grimly confessed to himself his pupil had been much…obsessed with finding these relics.

And he knew why—but it wasn't for reasons Mozenrath's "rescuers" would most likely assume.

He chuckled. So naïve, heroes were.

He moved majestically through the massive chamber, absorbing and mentally cataloguing all of its contents. Who knew, he sardonically thought, that the blasted child would prove so…_useful _in his fanaticism?

Not, of course, that one of Desdane's power needed such armaments; yet, he mused that he could likely find some use for them-

If for no other reason than seeing the expression on the brat's face upon realizing his own plans for these weapons had utterly failed.

_That _would be cause enough…. Desdane chuckled again. Tormenting the boy _had_ always been such entertainment.

A presence flickered across his awareness. Strange; his gaze swept throughout the Armory.

He was alone…was he not?

Dark eyes narrowing, he silently as a shadow tracked the vague impression.

He came to a darkened corner of the monolithic room and came before a slightly tall, mahogany wood table, elaborately carved. A large book sat, encased upon it.

Desdane smiled thinly. Well, well; now wasn't _this_ interesting?

The Book of Khartoum.

Indeed, his apprentice had been very busy…. _How amusing this will_ _surely prove to be_, Desdane thought, reaching for the tome.

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	23. Chapter 23: Khartoum

**A/N: **Here I am; being nice again! Giving you multi chapters in a day, lol. Anyways, I hope you all continue to enjoy; please review! And thanks to Norway for being the newest country to read! Glad you could come! And of course to all my returning readers; you make this more fun! Anyways; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 23: Khartoum _

Sadira's eyes were wide and glassy when Jasmine reached her. She sat beside Mozenrath's bed, shaking forcefully. Jasmine wrapped her arms around her friend and gave her a moderate shake.

Sadira's coffee-colored skin was frozen and covered in goose-bumps.

"Sadira!? Sadira!?"

Sadira made no sign she heard. Her gaze was fixated ahead; her pupils were dilated.

Genie was instantly at their side; Aladdin right behind him.

Jasmine turned frantically to them. "Genie, she can't hear me! What's wrong with her?"

Genie waved a hand in front of the witch's oval face; Sadira didn't even blink.

"Oh, I think I know what to do," Genie replied.

He poofed a full brass band of Genies into existence; each holding a very large version of trumpets, trombones and so forth.

He himself was the conductor; and dressed the part. "Ok, guys, tune to standard B-flat."

They all blasted their horns as loud as they could.

They weren't even remotely in tune.

"Ahhhhhh!" Iago yelled in protest, covering his ears. Abu did likewise.

Even Carpet, who had no ears, was holding his tassels over where ears would be.

Sadira snapped back to herself with a jolt and sharp gasp for breath.

Genie poofed back to himself as Jasmine urgently said, "Sadira, are you all right?"

Sadira blinked rapidly and shook her head, as if dispelling something, and pressed a hand to her brow.

"Sadira, what happened?" Aladdin asked with concern. Jasmine still held onto her; she was trembling less, but her body was still like ice.

"Nothing…I mean," she looked up to a panorama of skeptical faces, "okay, I'm not all right, but…" she shook her head again, more vigorously, and suddenly stood, "I just need some air."

She hurried away without another word. Aladdin made as if to go after her, but Jasmine held up a halting hand.

"I'll go," she said and followed after the sand witch.

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"I'm disappointed, Khartoum," Desdane said with mock chiding as he folded his arms, "I expected better from you."

Before him stood a tall, lanky wizard with an onyx beard and mustache, garbed in navy robes. Settled in his turban was another Philosopher's Stone—crafted in record time, yet with flawless precision by Desdane himself—who glowered bitterly at him in return.

Khartoum was always so temperamental, after all, Desdane recalled.

"It took an army of sorcerer's to cage me in that wretched book," Khartoum objected, his hands clenching into fists, "and yet, I suspect it was only that brat wizard of yours who managed to overthrow you."

Desdane snickered with amusement. "That 'brat' as you call him has been broken…by me. And yet, as you can see, I am hardly overthrown-"

"But-"

"Yes," Desdane sharply retorted, but gestured indifferently, "I was temporarily…_incapacitated_, but I'm disappointed yet again, Khartoum…I thought you would have discerned that I _allowed _the boy to 'defeat' me."

Khartoum started, which Desdane offered a tiny smile at in reply. "But…_why_!?"

Desdane reared up to his full height. "That, my dear Khartoum, you shall discover in due course. But…while I was going to invite you to remain here for a time…and perhaps play a vital role in my plans," he strode away leisurely, but then glanced back at the other sorcerer, "I'm not so certain I desire an ally bettered by my _apprentice._"

Khartoum shivered with fury. "I was not outdone by that child," he snapped, "a boy came here who had befriended two genies; it _was they_ who undid me."

Desdane blinked. A boy? Genies? The interloper brat had come with a genie.

So…where was the other then? For surely it was the same child.

Khartoum was too livid to catch Desdane's reaction. "And as for 'staying' and 'playing a vital role in your plans,' I have to such interest. I mean to hunt down that boy and his pet genies and exact my revenge."

Desdane smiled coldly. "Well, if you wish to do so on your own..." he gestured casually, "then be my guest. But…since I mean to have my own revenge on the boy-" Khartoum started again, "then you'll have to beat me to it. And…since your magic will require far more time to replenish itself than mine…I fear the boy and the genies will be destroyed long before you can begin the hunt. Besides," Desdane grinned, fully aware this would seal the deal for Khartoum, "I enchanted the Philosopher's Stone to obey only me."

Khartoum paled; he actually took a step backward. "You…what?"

Desdane waved dismissively. "You didn't seriously believe that I would simply hand you such a stone, did you?"

Khartoum glowered.

"No," Desdane said for him, "so, we'll strike a pact."  
Khartoum's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening," he growled softly.

Desdane only smiled at that. Of course he was; he had no other choice. "You'll help me destroy this boy and his genies-"

"What is the boy to you?"

"He took my apprentice."

Khartoum lifted an eyebrow at that, amused. His expression plainly asked the question: _And how did a mere boy do that…to the 'great' Desdane?_

Desdane's dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "The boy was aided by a sand witch who ambushed me-"

"_One_ sand witch?" Khartoum's tone dripped innocent curiosity.

Too innocent. Desdane set his jaw.

"If you'd prefer to return to your book…." He ground out.

Khartoum actually smiled at that. "And miss your re-match with a single sand witch? Oh, not hardly," he said lightly, and waved, "but please, go on."

"After the brat, his genies and the witch are no more…then in return I shall end my control of the Stone."

Khartoum looked dubious. "Oh; you will? The famous Desdane of the Black Sands will actually _relinquish_ control of an enchanted stone?"

Desdane snickered. Khartoum's doubts were well placed actually. After all, Mozenrath's own obsession with privacy and protectiveness was _learned,_ not inherent.

"It is either that," Desdane cheerfully replied, "or…back to the book. Make your choice."

Khartoum, to his credit, didn't look even remotely fearful. If anything, he looked…put out.

Blast him.

"Well," he said after a moderate silence, his tone of a man being bothered into a task, not coerced, "I suppose we'd devise far more entertaining methods of dispatching them with two minds, instead of one."

Desdane smiled. "I like your manner of thinking Khartoum; we shall make this quite the…party."

Khartoum offered a tiny smile. Desdane gestured towards his central tower. "Shall we?"

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**A/N: **Oh, and the fun continues! How did you like the vying of alpha male syndrome with Desdane and Khartoum? LOL; those clash so beautifully! Anyways; please review! I'm being nice…please be nice too and leave a few words, K? Thanks!


	24. Chapter 24: Elixir of Life

**A/N: **As if y'all can't notice, I've got the writer's bug…bad! LOL; but this is soooo fun! I hope you're all enjoying the ride as much as I am driving! Anyways, review plz! I've had all my shots, really… :P Anyhow…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 24: Elixir of Life _

Sadira hadn't gone far past the large crack in the ruin's south wall that acted as a "door."

Jasmine cautiously touched her arm. Sadira had to have heard her coming…but she had made no reaction.

"Sadira?"

The young witch sighed. "I'm all right, Jaz, really…."

Jasmine heard the "but."

She held her silence, deciding it was better to let Sadira open up at her own pace.

Sadira looked down at her bare feet, and took a deep breath. "I'm…I need some time to come to grips with what I saw," her voice cracked and Jasmine held both of her shoulders comfortingly, "it's…." she shuddered. "And I thought my life had been awful."

It had been, from what Jaz knew; but she didn't say so.

Sadira lifted her glittering eyes to the sky. In the east, a hint of lime green splashed across the lower horizon. Dawn was coming. She smiled at the thought-light coming, to banish the dark.

Dark; that wizard sleeping in her bed, his life had been ruled by the dark. And no dawn ever came to drive it away.

How had he lived?

"Sadira, how bad is it?" Jasmine felt safe asking; the question was vague. Sadira could answer as much…or little, as she wished.

Sadira shuddered. "I saw," she gulped and exhaled sharply, to steady herself, Jasmine assumed. "He was in this…horrible chamber. And a man was with him-"

"Desdane?"

Sadira nodded; her face drawn and grim. "He had this wooden chest nearby…he…opened it."

Jasmine felt dread crawl up her back. "And…?"

Sadira shivered again. "Those…things…." She gulped again, "that came out of the box." She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples. For many long moments…she just forced herself to breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Jasmine pursed her lips together in concern. Sadira had lived a brutal life, had seen things too horrific to even talk about. She was like a fortress; solid, formidable, unshakable.

This had shaken her; and hard.

Jasmine didn't press further. Details weren't necessary anyways, only finding a remedy.

"How bad is the damage?" she ventured.

Sadira raised her head to the sky again, as if seeking answers, or at least consolation. "His mind is destroyed, Jasmine."

Her tone was soft, thick with regret—and finality.

Jasmine closed her eyes; forcing herself to remain steady_. Don't faint, don't wretch_, she told herself.

Destroyed. Mozenrath's mind was destroyed.

"He can't be healed then?" she wrestled with her voice and made it submit to sounding calm.

_Please say he can be. That there is some way. _If he couldn't be healed; there would be no means capable of imprisoning him; not a sorcerer of his power.

They'd have to kill him before he woke.

Jasmine took a reinforcing breath. He was so evil, so vicious. But, it still felt so wrong, the idea of killing him. A picture of Xerxes's devastated face stabbed into her mind. She winced.

_What was done to Mozenrath wasn't his fault_, she reminded herself. He didn't ask to be molded into the…_monster_ he was now.

"Sadira?"

The sand witch sighed; the cool night breeze filling her senses and playing with her and the princess's long hair. She racked her mind for ideas.

"It would take a potion more powerful than anything I know how to make."

"How about Genie?"

Sadira shook her head. "His magic can't cure insanity. Well…maybe he could for a mortal, but curing a magician of madness if far more tricky. Genie won't know any of those spells."

Jasmine groaned. "Please, Sadira, there must be something."

Sadira raked her slender hands through her bushy cinnamon hair. "I…I can't think of anything. It would take a potion straight out of legend. And elixir-"

Epiphany struck Jasmine. "Like the Elixir of Life?"

Sadira's gaze riveted to hers. "How…how did you know about that?"

Jasmine sighed, recalling how Mozenrath had tried to take over Aladdin's body and they had both been trapped together within him instead. She gave Sadira the brief version of Aladdin's capture by Mozenrath, how they had saved Aladdin only to discover the wizard's spirit was sealed within him as well, and how the Elixir had been the only thing capable of separating them again.

Sadira's eyes drifted away, thoughtful. "Well, I must say you have quite the history with this wizard."

Jasmine, for some inexplicable reason, found she was _blushing._ "Well, I don't think I'd put it _quite_ like that."

Sadira turned and grinned at her, obviously catching how she had misinterpreted her words. And, of course she had to press it further. "But, Jasmine, don't you think him _handsome_? Because he _is_."

She busted up laughing at Jasmine's mortified, _reddened _face.

"_Sadira!_"

The sand witch only laughed harder. Despite everything though, it was such a relief to see Sadira happy again; even if it was at her expense.

Finally, Sadira pressed a hand to her smirking lips and stifled her laughter. Time to return to business; which was a shame…Jasmine had turned so beautifully _red_.

But, there were important obstacles to overcome. "So, Mozenrath then, I take it, knew where the Elixir was to be found?"

Jasmine nodded; her face cooling from the breeze and returning to light bronze. "He led us to a ravine. But…"she made a worried, anxious face and Sadira tilted her head to one side.

"It's guarded Sadira." She thought of those huge, terrible…beasts they had had to fight.

"I know."

Jasmine blinked. "But…how?"

Sadira gave her a smug…'_you should know why'_ look. "The same reason I knew about the Elixir in the first place. It's a sand witch relic."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "It…what?"

Sadira nodded again. "The ravine he led you to is the sight of an ancient sand witch stronghold. The stronghold I'm sure has weathered away over the millennia from sand-storms and such, but at the center of it was the guardians' chamber, where the Elixir is kept on a very high pedestal. Only a worthy magician is capable of entreating the guardians to let them have the Elixir; and even if they agree, it's only for a day or so. Then they have to return it."  
"Or?"

Sadira grinned without humor. "Or they hunt you down and take it back…and you die for not honorably returning it as the rules stipulate."

Jasmine exhaled sharply. Sadira pursed her lips in agreement; then headed back into the ruin.

Jasmine followed. "Where are you going?"

"To fetch the Elixir, of course."

"But…will they let you have it?"

Sadira shrugged casually as she walked. "I don't see why not. I'm the only sand witch left. I inherited all the secrets of their Order; so by right the Elixir is mine anyways."

Jasmine couldn't argue that point. "But, it's so far away; you'll have to take Carpet. And what if Desdane senses you?"

Sadira re-entered the chamber where everyone else was waiting. Genie and Al were talking softly; Aladdin didn't look well, Jasmine saw. What had happened during the quake? Al hadn't had time to really tell her.

But it was something about memories, and his brother, Jasmine recollected. There was a sweeping sound of cloth as Sadira collected her emerald cloak; she also took the rose-stoned scepter.

"What is that, Sadira?"

Sadira gave the gorgeous, golden weapon a test swing. It obviously doubled as a spear, with it's long-length and sharp clawed-tip. "The Scepter of Queens," she said, her voice tinged with bravado, "this is the weapon wielded by every Queen of the Sand…or Empress of the Sands as they were called back then. It has incredible powers."

"So, it considers you it's Queen then?" Al asked.

Sadira shrugged. "Considering I'm the only one, I guess it's sort of by default. I'm not a queen, I don't rule over anyone—nor do I want to," she added to Iago's suspicious look. The parrot only rolled his eyes doubtfully. "But, it's been useful in my travels."

"And the cloak?"

"The same, it's called the Emerald Mantle. Worn only by the ruler." She glanced around. "Jib!"

From a tiny hole near Mozenrath's bed, a tiny peach colored worm came out. "Yes, my lady?"

Iago shouted and jumped into the air. "It talks! It talks!"

Everyone just looked at him.

Iago coughed and perched on the chair's back, pretending nothing had just happened. Abu chuckled and mimicked his panicked reaction.

"Oh, quiet monkey boy."

Sadira cleared her throat. "Jib, I'm heading the Elixir Stronghold."

The little worm started. "Really? It's been found? That's fantastic!"

"Yep; and you're coming with. I'm not sure if I'll be able to communicate with the guardians."

The worm straightened at that. "Oh," he said importantly, "well, it'd be a pleasure, my lady."

"Great," she scooped him up from the sand. "Let's go."

And they melted into the sand and vanished.

"Why sand witch leave?" Xerxes asked, curled up beside his master.

Jasmine gave him a condensed version of their conversation.

Xerxes immediately perked. "Sand witch nice. Nice and brave."

Jasmine smiled. "Yes, she is." And then she turned to her fiancée. "So," she said, closing the distance between them and taking his hand, "do I get to know what you and Genie were talking about now?"

Aladdin's eyes fell to the floor. "It's…it's strange, Jaz, but I remembered something new about my brother…the night he disappeared."

"Please, tell me?"

Aladdin nodded, squeezing her hand tenderly.

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**A/N: **Hope you like! Please review!


	25. Chapter 25: The Emerald Mantle

**A/N: **firstly, many thanks to the readers who have noticed I've put up new chapters. You guys must have radar! It was almost immediately after I uploaded them that the site showed ppl were reading them! That's awesome! Anyways, I hope to get some new reviewers **hint! Hint!** but I do agree w/ hpets25, everyone who reads is a supporter. So…thx for supporting! Hope you're all still enjoying! If you reviewed, I'd know for sure! :P Anyways, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 25: The Emerald Mantle _

"I don't know why I remembered this now," Aladdin confessed his eyes glassy and expression…distant.

They all sat on cushions near Mozenrath. Jasmine wanted to be near enough to watch his breathing; Sadira and Genie had done wonders in mending his body.

But, Sadira had left them to retrieve the fabled Elixir of Life; Mozenrath's mind had been reduced to shattered rubble by Desdane's tortures. Only a potion of such legendary power as the Elixir, Sadira had said, was capable of healing him.

Otherwise he'd be condemned to insanity for the rest of his life. And…that only left the terrible option of killing him before he awakened and destroyed the world.

She had relayed she and Sadira's conversation outside—editing out Sadira's teasing her of course; she was sure Aladdin didn't want or need to hear that, and neither did her dignity—only to have Iago grouse about 'Desdane couldn't possibly have driven him crazy; he was that years ago!'—

And of course, Xerxes had chased him around, trying out of anger to bite him before Genie poofed into an Animal Control officer and broke it up.

"Remembered what? Was it about Farid?"

She glanced at Genie; Aladdin hadn't told him about his family, so far as she knew. She gave a questioning look to her intended.

"I told Genie, Jaz."

Jasmine nodded. "Was it the quake?"

Aladdin nodded, rubbing the back of his neck; an old habit. "Yeah, I don't know why…but it reminded me of how our house shook that night."

"What did you remember?" she kept her voice as calm and soothing as she could. Her father had been kidnapped enough times that she knew how nightmarish it was to lose family this way.

But thankfully, blessedly, they had always managed to rescue the sultan. Aladdin didn't share that good fortune.

"Well," he began, exhaling a deep breath, told them the tale.

_It was late. Aladdin was nearly asleep, but…it hadn't been the shaking of their house that had propelled him to wakefulness._

_It had been his brother's screams._

_He heard the peel of Farid's first scream an instant before the entire neighborhood began to quake. _

_But then…it was as though he was upstairs, standing beside his brother._

_It was so bizarre; Aladdin had never felt anything even close to it until he had shared his body for a time with Mozenrath…but even as he was aware of himself sitting up in bed, even as he saw his mother come crashing into his room while he sobbed in fear…he could see upstairs and Farid in his mind as clearly as he could see his mother in front of him._

_Farid had dived behind the table he had been reading at when the shaking started; he was screaming for their parents…when the west wall blasted in. _

_Farid screamed again and ducked under the table, till it lifted itself off the ground and flung to one side._

_It collided with the wall and broke apart with a loud crash; Farid back up against the wall…trembling._

_A man stood within the round opening made by the explosion._

_His feet weren't standing on the stone though; but thin air._

_He was a black silhouette; only the glinting of red eyes from beneath a large hood were visible. _

"_Come with me," a gravelly voice commanded._

_Farid yelped and made to run, but his legs were frozen. He yanked harder and harder as the shadow drew near him. _

"_Mother! Father!" Farid yelled in total panic the shadow loomed over him._

"_Stubborn, rebellious," the voice mused, "but so overflowing with power. You'll do very well."_

_Farid struggled fiercely as the shadow reached for him; Farid bit his arm as he took the boy's shoulder-_

_The shadow struck him hard, across the face; blood spattered from his nose and lip, marring his book, which lay nearby._

_With that, the shadow seized Farid, who yelled-_

_For Aladdin._

"_Brother! Help me!"_

_And in a burst of crimson light; his brother and the shadow were gone._

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"And the rest you already know," Aladdin mumbled, despondent, rubbing his face with one hand, propping himself on his knee with the other.

Abu made some sympathetic noises, sitting on Al's one leg; he reached up and patted his larger friend's arm comfortingly. Al gave him a sad smile and petted his head.

"It's incredible," Jasmine breathlessly said after a few moments, "I don't understand it though; you don't have magic…."

Al swallowed. "But from what the shadow said, Farid did."

Genie seemed thoughtful. "You know, guys, if Al's brother did have magic, in a moment like that, his magic could have been trying to find a way to save him. Maybe it showed Al what was happening so Al could help him."

"_Brother! Help me!"_

Aladdin flinched. His brother had been taken; abducted.

And he had done nothing.

Some hero he was.

Jasmine read his thoughts on his face. "What could you have done, Aladdin?"

It wasn't a question; Al caught that in her tone. It was a plea.

A plea to understand; he had been three. There was nothing he could have done to save Farid.

"I could have told mother," he said anyways.

"Al," it was Genie who gently forced reality onto him, "the man, whoever he was, took your brother almost instantly. By the time you told anyone, firstly, they wouldn't have believed you, not then; and he would have been long gone by then anyhow. Jaz's right."

Al soberly nodded; his face ashen, his shoulders slouched with the weight of regret.

"I wanted to help him."

"We know that Aladdin," Jasmine softly replied. "And I'm sure Farid knew that too."

"Hero," Xerxes said, gliding over to them. He stopped beside Jasmine's shoulder. He seemed conflicted, as if unsure whether he should or should not say what he intended.

"You may say whatever you please," Jasmine assured the eel; hoping that would set him at ease.

"Oh, sure," Iago muttered, "the _eel _can say whatever _he_ wants."

Abu only sighed and put in, "_Hwe not talk _awl _time." _

Iago only sputtered.

"Xerxes think hero brother maybe alive," the eel avowed softly, coiled up in hesitation.

Jaws dropped all around.

"What! How?" Aladdin demanded, jumping to his feet.

"Because, shadow man probably wizard."

"Yes, that makes sense," Jasmine said, letting the question of "so?" hang.

Xerxes flicked his tail, musing. "Likely hero-brother not used for sacrifice."

Aladdin gulped. "Sacrifice?"

Xerxes nodded, his face apologetic. "Not know for sure," he confessed, "but shadow-man make big show of take brother. Wizards not usual make show for sacrifices. But…apprentices."

"You think some evil magician kidnapped my brother for an apprentice?" Aladdin said, turning even paler. Jasmine got up and took his arm to steady him. He seized her hand, his shaking.

"So, Farid…might be alive," he said numbly, after a while.

Xerxes nodded. "Maybe."

Aladdin's gaze was far off. "Then…but why did my father not return then? If Farid was alive, then Father should have brought him back."

Xerxes's chin drooped. "Not if shadow killed," his tone was saturated with apology.

Aladdin squeezed his eyes shut; willing that declaration away. "What if Farid didn't cooperate?"

Xerxes swished his tail again and looked at it, clearly not wanting to answer.

"Okay," Iago loudly said, "I've got to say something now."

Jasmine leveled him a sour look.

"No!" Iago protested, "hero-boy is gonna drive himself crazy with all of these 'what-ifs.' Ya know what? What ifs don't help; can't help. And if you think about it too long, you'll go nuts. Until we deal with the new and improved, more-crazy wizard of the Black Sand, we really can't focus on anything else right now."

That seemed to snap everyone out of it. Aladdin took a breath and straightened, rubbing his neck again. "Iago's right," he flatly said.

"Well, of course I'm-"

"And we do need to stay on task here," he added, obviously not wanting to let go of the subject of his brother's possible survival, "how long do you think Sadira will be gone?" he asked Jasmine.

"I don't know; she didn't say."

"Hero," Xerxes chanced.

Aladdin looked at him.

"Master may be able to help. Once world is safe."

Aladdin's brown eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Master knows of many wizards; has fire mirrors to see far off places-"  
"I've seen those." He grimaced at the memory.

"Plus master has Gilt Mirror. Very powerful. Can see everywhere. Distance not matter."

"So, he might be able to find Farid for me?"

Xerxes nodded. "You save master; help master. Master…_might_ wish repay."

"Yeah," Iago snarked, "there it is: might."

Genie straightened. "Well, Al, if Wiz-kid doesn't want to show gratitude, don't you worry. You have a semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic genie in your corner. If Farid is out there, we'll find him."

Al let out a sigh of relief. Hugged his friend. "Thanks Genie."

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The lime band across the sky had expanded, melting into the sapphire cloak of night and dismissing the glittering, silvery stars. At the Elixir Stronghold site, a mound of sand raised itself from the dunes just before the entrance into the tall ravine. The sand morphed into Sadira, with her sand worm, Jib, perched on her shoulder. She tightened her grip on the golden scepter she held; adjusted her green cloak.

The Scepter of Rule and the Emerald Mantle; the insignias of Queens.

Hopefully, the guardians would be impressed enough to give her the Elixir. Sadira was certain she could win in battle for it; but, the idea of a sand witch fighting sand witch guardians for a sand witch relic just felt _so wrong_.

A house divided cannot stand. And with Desdane returned, the House of the Witches of the Sand _had_ to stand.

There was simply no other way.

She headed for the ravine's yawning opening.

It was easy enough to navigate the route to the remnants of the center chamber; she had studied the stronghold's layout months ago in detail; in fact, there had been scrolls about this place in droves. They told all one needed to know about it.

Except for the location; a slightly important detail.

But, soon enough, she stood before a tall pillar of grey stone; it reared up before her easily 70 feet high. Atop it she caught a glint of golden light.

The Chalice, and within, the legendary Elixir of Life.

She sighed in relief.

But, even as she took her first steps, the ground began to shake.

Sadira sighed; again!? But then she recalled; the guardians.

The arose from the shifting sands, the ground rumbling like thunder beneath her feet. They were around 30 feet long; dark eggplant purple with large green eyes and black crests on their bulbous heads.

The Sand Slugs. Not an intimidating title, Sadira mused, but their leviathan size seemed to make up for that.

One of them roared at her. She was about to display her spear/scepter threateningly, till Jib cut in—

"He's asking who you are."

"Oh," Sadira flushed in embarrassment; she should have realized that.

It's a good thing she really wasn't a queen, she thought. She forced herself to stand up straight and then, regally lifted up the Sceptor. The giant slugs all made loud grumbles of surprise—and recognition.

"Tell them," Sadira evenly instructed, "that I am Sadira, witch of the sand and inheritor of all that was once the Sand Witch Empire. As the Inheritor, I request of them that they give to me the Elixir for two days. Afterwards, I shall follow the Standard of our Order and return it."

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**A/N: **Well, how was that? Like? Not? Plz let me know. Do you think the Guardians will let them have the Elixir? Or will Sadira have to fight for it? Throw in your guess! Till next time! Plz leave a review!


	26. Chapter 26: Scarlet Gold

**A/N: **OK, so I'm just gonna vent out this "writer's mania" I seem to have caught today. Enjoy it while it lasts! LOL.

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 26: Scarlet Gold _

Desdane found himself once again before his Gilt Mirror, searching out the cosmos. The last evening had proven…revealing, as to what had been transpiring out there in the worlds during his _reprieve _as a mamlock.

His faithless pupil had been for all practical purposes obsessed with collecting every magical relic in known existence; even opening portals to other worlds in order to claim the lost relics; for, not every relic now residing in the vast Armory was from this world, Desdane reflected.

And meanwhile, this street boy had arisen from the drudges to the status of "Hero," facing off with no apparent powers against some of the most skillful magicians in existence…and triumphing over them.

It was…disturbing, to say the least.

Not that Desdane truly believed he would join the ranks of those defeated by this vagrant child; no…for Desdane was quite certain he had deduced _the true_ secret to the boy's rampant success.

But, for now, he would keep that to himself.

He had, with Khartoum beside him, called upon Mirage, Aghoul, as well as every dark magician he ever knew or had heard of and shocked them all…with a request that they immediately travel to the Black Sand Citadel—

So that they may _treaty_ together.

Desdane, who had made a bloody and horrific reputation for his means of…'refusing' a supplication of alliance…was offering now said alliances to all his fellow dark workers.

He chuckled softly, recalling with delicious clarity their shocked, then suspicious…and finally _fearful_ expressions.

Fearful that it was a trick, fearful of the consequences should they refuse him; fearful of his gory renown and how many had died, thus enabling him to earn it.

No one ever refused Lord Desdane. Well, he amended to himself, some did in the early years, but they were too dead afterwards to ever make that mistake again.

The rest quickly learned after enough…examples. Ergo, fear of him was _very_ well justified.

Only Mirage ever faced him with absolute courage; which, he didn't mind. It enhanced her…other qualities-stunning, impudent creature that she was.

And she knew it too; blast her.

However, all in all, he had much to be pleased of; for starters every one of his precious monsters, his glorious abominations, had returned to his Citadel, at last.

Except the loss of Sentry; he ground his teeth. That wretched little sand witch…oh, how she would _pay_.

_But, even so, the Citadel felt like home again_, Desdane reminded himself. He grinned…and then caught sight of aqua waters within the Mirror's face…and a…woman?

No, as he waved a command to the Mirror to acquire a closer view for him, he saw it was not a mortal—but a siren.

My, and wasn't she glorious too.

Desdane watched with keen interest as she sat before a large vanity made of shells and corals, brushing her luscious mane of gold-scarlet hair. She held a royals' poise and bearing, even occupied with something so…mundane.

But how the light played on the ripples and curls of her hair, it was mesmerizing.

Beside her, her attendant, a large violet octopus used enchanted creams and other cosmetics on her already flawless face. It was perfectly apparent to the dark wizard the creature smothered her with his attentions.

He snickered. Foolish servant, then.

He watched as she frowned, her ivory complexion twisted in disdain. She plucked something black out of her long mane.

Desdane froze; he recognized that substance.

The Otherworld of the Black Sand.

But, how had she gotten there? And then out again?

He grinned and then touched the Mirror, the glass rippling under his fingers.

Well, he could always ask her.

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The slugs listened as Jib related Sadira's words to them. He rose to his full height—which wasn't much, but living with Lady Sadira had made him feel…important.

Needed; an asset.

He had left her in a huff when she first…dropped, quite literally into the section of ruins where he had dwelt as the Voice for the Witches of the Sand. When she had told him they were no more; his feelings of being part of something had been crushed.

He had returned to his mother after that…but, his life had become meaningless. His mother had been and still was, in perfect health, and while she greatly enjoyed having him home…she didn't need him to look after her.

He wanted to have a purpose. And so, he had returned to Sadira. And, by then, she had grown into a strong and confident magician; but, when he had offered to be her assistant, she looked so surprised at first that he felt certain she would refuse.

But, she had tentatively asked if he meant it; and when he assured her he was, she had clapped her hands together in glee and told him how thrilled she was to accept.

He was needed again; loyal assistant to the Solitary Witch of the Sand.

His tiny chest swelled; it felt good to be useful again.

He finished his task; and he and his mistress waited for the guardians' reply.

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**A/N: **Ok, now I'm feeling spent. Writer's mania is ebbed…lol. So, hope you liked, if you did, plz leave a few words. Medicine for the mania LOL. Anyways, y'all have a great rest of the week. Till next time!


	27. Chapter 27: Homage & Worthiness

**A/N: **2,384 views. Wow…just wow. You guys are SOOOO epic! Gotta say a million thanks and also give a special holler out thanks to all my returning reviewers (y'all know who you are!), and also send a holler out to my new reviewers: lizathon and my 2 guest reviews! Plz login so I know your online names and can send a thanks by name!

Anyways, I'm happy that Sadira's portrayal is getting positive feedback. I'm trying to evolve her character past the clumsy, insecure girl she was often in the TV series. More on that will come; also, Desdane's last apprentice? I was wondering when someone would bring that up (thanks Putscheschka!); more on that to come as well! Hang in there y'all; the pieces will fit together, promise! Anyhow, y'all know what comes next: onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 27: Homage & Worthiness _

The Guardians leaned towards each other and made low rumbling sounds to each other that Sadira could only assume was conversation. As crazy as it seemed to her, their 'tones' sounded…debating. She held back a sigh, suddenly quite sure they were conflicted about giving her the Elixir.

Surely they had noticed no sand witch had come for the Elixir in several thousand years? Surely they wondered why not? So…what was the problem?

Had they rightly deduced that the Order, aside from her—and Jib—was no more? If so, then why guard the Elixir at all? The questions threatened to swirl around her head like a sand storm; but, she forced them back.

This was not the time; she had an insane sorcerer sleeping in her bed. If she failed to get the Elixir and he awoke…guarding the fabled potion would be the least of these slugs' worries.

Or anyone's for that matter.

Finally, the behemoth creatures turned back to her and Jib. She caught the little sand worm's body stiffen as he sat on her shoulder. He must have been eavesdropping; Sadira berated herself for not asking him to translate their words for her.

Oh well; too late now.

One of the creatures, the one who first roared the demand of who she was, opened his yawning mouth and made several booming, then almost strained, piercing sounds to Jib.

"He says that as you've never been presented to them officially by your Imperial mentor they can't be certain that you're of the Order; that being the case, they won't give you the Elixir."

Sadira gritted her teeth and made a sound of exasperation. "And the fact that I'm wearing the Mantle and holding the Scepter of Rule means nothing?"

Jib made some inquiring noises to the creature, who rumbled in reply.

"He says you could have stolen them; or killed the Empress and taken them."

"Gah!" Sadira let out with a stamp of her foot. "That's ridiculous! A sand witch ruler killed and robbed!? That's impossible! And they should know that!" she raised her spear. Well, if they weren't smart enough to know that, then she'd have to resort to other measures.

"Tell them," she snarled, "that I am the Inheritor, whether they believe it or not; and if they don't have perception enough to know that a sand witch cannot be robbed and killed…much less a Queen, then I deem them unworthy to guard the Elixir of Life. Tell them I have an insane wizard who was betrayed and tortured into madness by his master in my bed and if I don't give him that Elixir, he'll wake up out of his mind and will probably destroy the world." She inhaled sharply and took a deep breath. "Tell them, my friends, who trust me, are depending on me to get that Elixir to him and I assured them I'd do my best for them. If they refuse to give me the goblet, then they're infringing my honor." She commanded the Scepter to awake and the rose stone glowed ominously. "And…I don't take that sort of thing lightly."

Jib swallowed nervously as Sadira glared daggers at the enormous slugs and translated her words.

The creatures heard Jib in silence…and then Sadira waited for their attack.

It didn't come.

They glanced at each other, their expressions…full, Sadira thought, for their lack of features; and they regarded her, saying nothing, for many pregnant moments.

Sadira raised the spear a little higher, just so they understood her threat was in earnest.

A picture of Mozenrath waking before she got back drove itself like a javelin into her mind.

She swallowed hard and pushed it back.

Her friends were depending on her; she would not fail them.

"Tell them they have one more minute to decide," she coldly told Jib.

He nodded and repeated her words.

The slugs reared back, their mammoth weight making the ground shudder. And then—

They grunted…Sadira thought, in approval.

She blinked, the spear's tip wavering uncertainly.

The head slug spoke again.

"He says you passed the test," Jib said in bewilderment.

Sadira started. "What test?"

The slug seemed to understand her. It tilted its head to one side and then…it spoke!

"You were not of the Old Order," it replied and Sadira jumped back in amazement, and Jib nearly fell off her shoulder, he leaped so high in astonishment, but Sadira caught him with her free hand.

"We knew that something happened to the Old Order," it went on, its voice very low, and…slick sounding, Sadira thought, but it had a powerful resonance, and Sadira suddenly realized it was whispering, to spare their ears. "But, none of us could discover what had happened. Our duty, you see, is to the Elixir alone. But you, you abruptly appear to us and declare yourself the sole witch remaining; you must understand why were were…cautious. No witch had come to us in several of your millennia…and you are but a fledgling. We had reason to be suspicious. However, you have obvious honor and integrity. You displayed the merits of our Order…and the Scepter of Rule responds to you. It is enough; we are appeased."

Sadira's tense shoulders dropped; she blew out a breath of relief. "Thank…thank you."

The slug nodded. "We will let you take the Elixir for the two days you requested. But, in return, may we make a request?"

Sadira and Jib looked at each other. "All right," Sadira said after a moment, "what would you like?"

"News."

"News?"

"Yes," the guardian replied, "we have not been told what happened to the Old Order; they were suddenly…no more. What became of them? What has happened since? What are your plans to restore the Order? Do you rule their Empire now?"

Sadira thought. Their request was fair; they deserved to know why they had seemingly been abandoned for all that time. They hadn't done anything to merit being barricaded from the rest of the world in their isolating vigil; they had been loyal for all this time. And it hadn't been her fault; she didn't know where the stronghold was until tonight…but they seemed to have deduced that on their own.

But, she couldn't spare the time. Not now; Mozenrath could awaken at any moment.

The slugs seemed to sense her hesitation.

"You need not reveal what has transpired all this time now," the slug amended, "if you would, attend to your pressing business and then return to us at a later time. We have waited all this time; we can't wait a while more."

Sadira pursed her lips; that didn't seem fair.

Was their another way?

Then, it hit her.

Straightening, she lifted Jib off her shoulder and held him aloft. "I have not the time, as you say, to remain myself. But, my Emissary, Jib, I will appoint to remain and answer all of your questions; let me take the Elixir now and my representative will fill you in on all you wish."

Jib jolted in her hand; he leaned back. "I'm your Emissary?" he said with baited breath.

Sadira nodded. "Congratulations on your promotion," she whispered in his ear, leaning close.

Jib shivered in barely restrained excitement. A promotion!? His mother would be so proud!

With a wave of the Scepter, the Elixir was consumed in rose light. It lifted itself from the pedestal and drifted smoothly down to her, stopping just before her and hovering there. Sadira crouched down and let Jib squirm off her palm; she rose and took the beautiful goblet.

"The Elixir responds to you as well," the slug mused aloud. Another meaningful look was passed between all the guardians. "You are truly worthy then," he quietly added.

Sadira's brow furrowed. "Worthy of what?"

Jib cleared his throat. Sadira threw him a bemused glance. "What?" she repeated.

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**A/N: **LOL! Yes, I'm being naughty again. Worthy of what? So, still liking? I hope so. Plz let me know if you are! Till next time!


	28. Chapter 28: Promotions & Healing

**A/N: **Ah, got the homework done a little earlier than I expected; which is good for me…and good for you! Multi chapters brought to you once again! LOL; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 28: Promotions & Healing_

The sand slugs moved so that their massive, jostling bodies stood before Sadira in a straight line. The sand witch wondered if she had been tricked; or if this "worthiness" was in fact something like: "Ok, you passed the test; you're worthy to be lunch."

_No; that was stupid_, she thought, _I'm too small to feed even one of them_! She hoped anyways.

They all lowered their faces to the sand; Sadira repressed a shriek as their heads came at her…realized at the last moment their mouths weren't open—and their teeth weren't bared.

"We declare you worthy, Lady Sadira, Solitary Witch of the Sands," the first slug declared formally, "We give unto you our undying homage and swear un-ceasing loyalty to you…our Queen."

"Congratulations on _your promotion_," Jib said smugly. Sadira threw him a glare. He had seen this coming! That little…. And he hadn't said a word!

"Little sneak," she grumbled at him. He only snickered; obviously pleased with himself.

"Hey, I'm a _Royal_ Emissary now," he said, straightening importantly, "I wasn't about to let you refuse their allegiance."

Sadira rolled her eyes and let out a groaning sigh.

"Is our oath displeasing to you, my queen?" the spokes-slug asked, lifting his head slightly. Sadira winced guiltily; he sounded worried—and hurt.

"No, no," she said, raising her hands even though they were both full, "it's great." She coughed to clear her throat and quickly seized her whirlwind thoughts. "I'm really grateful actually," she said after a moment, and realized she meant it, "the world has changed…and not all of it for the better. Your allegiance will be a big help to me, I'm sure of it."

"Your wish is our command, my queen," the other solemnly replied, bowing his head again.

Sadira coughed again; this felt…strange, all of this formality. She was a street mouse, sand witch or no; but, they deserved her best efforts, after all she was getting _their_ best—it was only right.

"Please," she said, trying to sound regal, "rise. My…_Royal_ Emissary will remain to debrief you." She glanced at Jib, who was bouncing around with mostly repressed excitement. "Be sure to tell them all about Mozenrath and Desdane," she whispered to him.

Jib nodded. "I will..._my queen_."

Sadira kept her eyes from going skyward; but it was hard. She kept the groan at bay.

This would take a lot of getting used to.

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"Hey guys," Sadira greeted as she arose as a pillar of sand, once again at her ruin and shifted back into herself.

She held up the goblet and watched her friends let out a collective sigh. She allowed herself a triumphant grin.

It wasn't often that she didn't something right—at least when _they_ were around to see it, anyways.

"Great job, Sadira," Jasmine said, her voice dripping relief.

Before long, she was at the wizard's bedside; administering spoon-fulls of the iridescent Elixir to his unconscious form. Xerxes hovered across from her, watching intently.

"Elixir work? Elixir help master?"

Sadira hid the sympathetic wince; he sounded like he genuinely cared for this…well, she had heard about Mozenrath, Lord of the Black Sands on her travels.

The reviews weren't glowing, to say the least. Words like: maniac, sadist, monster and sociopath were what she usually heard bantered around his name. And now here he was, lying helplessly in her bed…and here she was, a common street mouse, thief-turned witch nursing him back to health.

She caught Jasmine give Xerxes a hopeful smile.

"If anything can, it's this," Sadira told him, trying to sound confident. The eel brightened a little at that.

Life was endlessly strange, she reflected, she had given up long ago trying to ever predict what it had in store for her next. Her efforts had proven futile, not to mention exasperating, to even try.

The others watched in silence as she worked. Jasmine kept glancing at her though, and pursing her lips; she knew that look.

"I'm listening, Jaz."

Jasmine quirked her lips in a small, "hand caught in the cookie jar," smile. "I was just wondering."

Sadira smirked. "Aren't you always?"

"Yes," Iago firmly put in.

Jasmine gave him a half-hearted attempt at a look. "You said you knew all too well what Desdane is capable of."

Sadira nodded soberly; kept working. Thankfully, she caught the wizard's pallor improving, just noticeably. But, she pressed a hand softly to his brow and skimmed his mind every so lightly.

Phew…she could sense his sanity…as much of it as he ever had anyways…beginning to knit itself back together.

Xerxes lifted his head, and gave her a questioning look. Sadira let out a pleased sigh. "His mind is healing, Xerxes."

Xerxes slumped, his body reflexively unwinding from who-knew how much tension.

"Xerxes grateful to sand witch."

Sadira smiled; he was endearing, the little flying worm. But, she already knew worms held that trait.

She rose. "Well, I'm going to let him rest for now; I think if I give him regular doses of the Elixir for the next day or two that should mend his mind as much as possible."

Abu cuffed Iago before he could comment.

"Hey!"

"Nice work, monkey-man," Genie said, "you were reading my mind."

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Sadira whipped together a very late supper for them: soup…plain vegetable soup with no inter-dimensional opening properties or some such thing…Iago complained it didn't taste as good as the gate-opening batch, but after Sadira casually mentioned she could try to make him some, he quickly assured her not to trouble herself. She managed to bake un-burnt bread and had some figs and grapes as well. They sat around her stone oval table and ate.

Jasmine twirled her spoon in her soup, letting it cool. "You're not telling us about Desdane; why?"

Sadira grimaced around a mouthful of warm bread. She chewed, swallowed and tried to be mellow. "I figured you guys wanted to handle one disaster at a time."

"You mean making sure Mozenrath will be all right?"

"All right as in 'not wake up and kill us all'?" Iago muttered.

Genie, who was sitting next to him, twitched his hand and poof! Iago was an hour glass again.

"Hey! You did that on purpose!"

"Guys," Aladdin impatiently said.

Genie put on his best innocent face. "It was a muscle spasm, Al, really!"

Aladdin stared flatly at him.

Genie sighed. "Ohhhh! Okaaaaay." And poof! Iago was himself again.

"Last time I eat at this second rate restaurant," he grumbled.

Xerxes happily devoured everything placed before him, every few bites telling Sadira: "Mmmm, sand witch food good! Food good!"

Sadira ate up the praise and offered him more and more food. He didn't turn her down.

Genie couldn't stop himself. "You'd think he has a _worm _or something."

Abu sputtered, soup coming out of his nose. Iago pretended not to hear, munching on grapes. Carpet bobbed his 'head' up and down silent laughter.

Xerxes was too preoccupied with his feast to hear.

All the while, Jasmine waited expectantly. Sadira sighed, catching it.

"Are you sure you don't want to at least wait till after dessert?"

"I have a feeling we shouldn't, Sadira," Jaz replied, trying to press gently.

Aladdin tore his bread into pieces; looked up at Sadira. "If you're trying your hardest to delay it, Sadira, it's bad; so, I agree with Jaz. We should just get it over with."

Sadira's gaze swept over the others, finding they clearly felt likewise. Next to her, she heard Xerxes munching gleefully on grapes.

She stood. "All right," she said, resigned, "let me get the scrolls."

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**A/N: ** Well, how did you like? Please don't be shy! Feedback makes a writer happy! Till next time!


	29. Chapter 29: Sorcerer King

**A/N: **Hopin' you're enjoying the ride…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 29: Sorcerer King_

They remained around the greyish table as Sadira gathered up a leather bag and returned to her seat; she pulled out three yellowed, decrepit looking scrolls and placed two beside her. The last she gestured for everyone to move their plates back; and then unrolled the last scroll across the table.

"Uh, Sadira, this scroll looks very old," Jasmine began.

"It's all right, Jaz. I enchanted it; food can't damage it now."  
"Oh."

Aladdin and his friends were party to an elaborately painted scroll of lovely, though faded colors portraying the Seven Deserts. But, there was no Agrabah; no any other kingdom Aladdin recognized. The territorial markings were all unknown to him. In fact, it seemed that one kingdom ruled nearly all of the Seven Deserts.

"Sadira, what is this map of?" he asked.

"The Empire of the Witches of the Sand," Sadira somberly replied.

"Ohhhhhh!" Xerxes put in with interest. Forgetting his now empty plate, he hovered over the markings; his mismatched eyes darted all over; Aladdin deduced from the familiarity in his eyes, he recognized this map. Mozenrath probably had a similar one in his library.

One of his libraries, anyways.

"What do these markings mean?" Jasmine questioned, fingering one of many onyx symbols that embellished the enormous map all over.

"They tell the story," Sadira said, "these," she pointed to scarlet markers, "designate battle sites. The black narrate what happened." She pointed to a large marker near her waist. "This is the Primary; you start here, and then follow these-" she pointed to tiny slash marks that connected the different markers in a way Al was certain she understood but was beyond him, "and it all comes together to chronicle what took place."

Jasmine nodded; her gaze absorbing. Al wasn't surprised; as a princess, this sort of thing was surely standard in royal education.

He sort of never had that.

Sadira took a breath, and placed a finger on the Primary. "Long ago," she recited, "the witches of the Sand ruled the Seven Deserts in a vast Empire." Her finger moved to a site over Agrabah—their old palace, Al recalled, made of green spires.

"For thousands of years, while tiny kingdoms grew up around them, no one dared to challenge their rule," Sadira sighed a little at that, as though disapproving, "but," her finger moved to a marker that Al recognized.

He swallowed. Sadira went on.

"In the west, in a rich and prosperous kingdom blessed by an enchanted king, a dark presence besieged their land and slew the monarch. He conquered their kingdom and cursed the land and sky to be perpetually darkened. Their people he condemned to dwell as the undead.

His name was Lord Desdane."

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Saleen felt as though her hair was finally…acceptable, when she saw something strange in her mirror.

"Armond?"

The octopus perked up.

"Tell me? Have I suddenly aged?"

He vigorously shook his head. She always was young, and _so_ lovely…. He swooned.

"Have I suddenly…taken on a male appearance?" her voice was light, casual.

Armond started in stupefied shock.

"Hmmm, then my sweet, I fear we have a problem. There appears to be a magician in my mirror."

And it was so, her perfect reflection no longer gazed back at her…but a man.

And granted he was elegant and handsome; but she preferred to see her _own_ face in her mirror.

She leaned back in her cushioned shell chair and sighed in mock annoyance. "And here I just rid myself of all traces of the last impertinent wizard," she said, her tone bored.

The image snickered. "Forgive me, then, my dear, for taking up your mirror; but I wished to speak to you."

His voice was formal at least-and courteous. Saleen straightened, set her brush down.

"Only speak, magician?" there had to be a trick in the works; she could practically smell it.

"Well," the other smoothly replied, "if I could enjoy your exquisite beauty meanwhile; I shall hardly complain."

Saleen ignored Armond's indignant gestures to that; her brow raised.

Hmm, well, isn't this an improvement? A pretty wizard…and with manners?

And taste?

All the better.

"Well, I suppose I'm feeling generous today," Saleen replied, her voice silken, "What may I do for you, wizard?"

The magician dipped his chin ever so slightly. "A great deal actually. I am Lord Desdane; Ruler of the Land of the Black Sand."

"Ah; so that's why you're here. You sensed me leave your…other realm?"

Desdane smiled. "No; yet I saw you divesting your hair of it. My apologies."

Saleen smiled thinly. "None needed…just so long as you tell me your apprentice still lives."

Desdane narrowed one eye. "He is; and that is to you….?"

"Well, I can hardly make him suffer a slow and agonizing death if he's already dead…now can I?"

Desdane couldn't repress the snigger at how sweetly she had said it. No wonder the sea creature fawned over her so.

"Perhaps I could offer something even better?"

Saleen leveled a dubious look. "I'm listening."

_But clearly not expecting much._ "You've heard of the boy, Aladdin?"

"Yes," was all she said. _Ah; so there's a great deal more there then_, Desdane deduced.

"He has taken my wayward apprentice; I have much to repay him for as well…however, you and I are but two who have encountered this street rat child who now has my pupil. There are many others whom have faced the boy; I am gathering them all into one great alliance."

"To what end?" was the blunt reply. Saleen had the sea; land dwellers, aside from the occasional sailor held no interest for her.

"Revenge will be all the sweeter, my dear," Desdane assured her, "as we combine our might and level their beloved kingdom; and…once my pupil is immortal…you will have all eternity to punish him as much and as often as you like." He smirked. "Far better, don't you think, than a slow and agonizing death?"

"And Aladdin?"

"I've not decided," Desdane allowed with an indifferent wave, "beyond neutralizing him as a threat of course. But, we are immortals; we'll have a great deal of time to decide such matters…and it would be so very lovely if you consented to join our company."

Saleen swallowed the knot of excitement that suddenly formed in her throat. Oh, but this did sound like fun! Destruction? Plus revenge? Plus…who knew what else?

And he was so very handsome….

She reached a hand out, smiling in anticipation; Desdane's appeared from the mirror's flat surface. She grasped it; and repressed the gasp at feeling his power surging through him.

Handsome and powerful; better and better….

Armond grabbed onto her tail as Desdane pulled her into the mirror, realizing he was meant to be left behind.

_No one_ was taking Saleen from him again!

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**A/N: **Hope you're still liking; plz review!


	30. Chapter 30: War of Empires

**A/N: **glad to see ppl are already reading the new chapters; hoping you're liking as much as I am writing them! Reviews make it even more fun! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 30: War of Empires_

"And so," Sadira went on, "after a hundred years or so, this king in the west solidified his control over this kingdom plus all the tributary kingdoms surrounding it. He called his kingdom-"

"The Land of the Black Sand," Al grimly supplied.

Sadira nodded. "But he wanted more; and so, he challenged the Witches of the Sand for control of the Seven Deserts."

"And the witches lost?" Jasmine asked.

"No," Sadira replied, and was barraged by confused looks. "It's more complicated than that," she elaborated, "they warred for centuries," she pointed to the different red markers showing the endless plethora of battle sites, "but, after nearly a thousand years of fighting…whoosh," she made a sweeping gesture over the map, "it was over."

Aladdin put up his hands. "Wait…wait," he said, "what do you mean, 'whoosh'?"

Sadira shrugged helplessly. "That's just it; no one knows how or why the war suddenly ended. It just did."

"Just like that?"

Sadira nodded. "All we know for sure is that somehow, the war ended. The witches of the sand vanished, probably destroyed, though we don't even know that for sure-"

"We don't?!" Iago stammered in terror.

Sadira grimaced at him. "Remember Shakata and the other two? Trapped in the other dimension? They weren't destroyed; somebody trapped them there. Did you ever wonder who?"

Everyone was silent. _Apparently not_, Sadira grimly realized.

"But, Desdane lost too?" Jasmine conjectured.

"Yes," Sadira said with another nod, "he, whatever happened, was so depleted of his power that for over a thousand years, he dwelt in his own kingdom quietly. He wasn't even able to hang onto the tributary provinces around him. The Land of the Black Sand became entirely isolated, cutting itself off from the Seven Deserts. He never conquered any other kingdom; no one ever found out why."

"Strange," Aladdin mused, rubbing the back of his neck. What did it all mean?

"Do you think Desdane trapped the witches in that strange realm?" Jasmine asked.

Another shrug. "It's likely. But no one was ever able to find out for sure."

"Sadira, where did you get these scrolls?" Aladdin asked.

"On my travels; when I was in the south, there was a brilliant historian down there who had these. Apparently a predecessor of his some centuries back had tried to unravel why this war ended as mysteriously as it did. This was all he was ever able to find out; well, that, and he found some strange magic anomalies at the final battle site. That's all."

"But somehow, Desdane was stopped," Jasmine said firmly, but mainly to herself.

"Uh," Genie chanced, "you know guys, there is still their old palace; under Agrabah. I mean, we're kinda in part of it, right now."

"Yes!" Jasmine enthusiastically added, "the rest of the ruins." She looked expectantly at Sadira.

"I've only searched a few parts of it," Sadira clarified, putting up a halting hand, "a lot of this old palace you can't even get to. And lots of it are barred off by magic; magic I can't even get by."

Al twisted his lips in disappointment; Jasmine groaned, placing a palm against her brow.

"But, you're a sand witch," Iago said, bewildered.

Sadira's eyes met the ceiling. "Yes, but sand witch magic isn't walling it off; some…other kind of magic is. A kind I haven't encountered before."

"Oh."

"You know guys," Genie amended, "we are forgetting someone here."

Everyone looked at him.

Genie pointed to Xerxes.

"The Wonder Worm."

Xerxes flicked his tail, annoyed at Genie's nickname, but met Al's gaze.

"Hero's Genie kind of right. Xerxes hear Desdane much."

"Did he ever mention the war?"

"Once," Xerxes tentatively said, "master find account of it in library; Desdane forget it there. Master asked Desdane about it. Desdane…angry."

Aladdin sighed. Angry was probably the least of it. But, Xerxes _had_ said Genie was "kind of right."

"So, he never said anything in detail?"

"Only warned master to never ask again."

Aladdin nodded soberly. He had thought as much.

"We need to find a way into the old palace," Jasmine avowed, "the parts that Sadira can't get through. There must be something more there."

Sadira, meanwhile, had risen and made her way to Mozenrath; who hadn't moved since their arrival.

Aladdin watched. "Maybe that's why he took an apprentice," he offered aloud, "to have someone to help him finish the job."

"Maybe," Jasmine weighed in, "but why wait so long? Nearly a thousand years? For what?"

"It might have taken him that long to recover," Genie put in.

"I don't know guys," Iago dubiously added, "if Desdane is as bad as Jafar made him out to be, I doubt he'd need a thousand years to recover from a battle, even if it was him versus an army. We were in his Citadel you know; he's got his own army in there: a monster army."

Everyone took that in silently.

Sadira placed her palm to the wizard's head again; felt the progress beneath his brow. It was slow; but there was some progress.

She took a breath.

"Guys," she said, "it's safe to move him now."

Aladdin nodded. "Let's get him back to the palace then."

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**A/N: **Yes, this one is short; sorry. It's about 2am and I'm wiped! Time for me to ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz and you guys to R & R! Nite!


	31. Chapter 31: Dungeons & Fury

**A/N: **Wow, 2,566 views as of today!? I continue to be just flabbergasted and overwhelmed by the response this story is receiving. I interpret it as two things: 1-Love for the Aladdin Series, both movies and TV; and 2-That we NEED a 4th Movie w/ Mozenrath! Gah! PLZ Disney! We need a 4th movie!

Anyways, I'm sure most of you have noticed this already, but I do want to ask those who might not be as familiar with the TV series episodes featuring Mozenrath; please go on YouTube and watch the episodes; I have been/will be subtly threading quotes, allusions and such from these episodes and I think you'll enjoy this story more if you familiarize yourself with those episodes. Now, I don't recall ALL of them I'm sure, but the titles I remember of Mozenrath episodes include: _The Citadel, Secret of Dagger Rock, Vocal Hero, Two to Tangle, Black Sand_ and _City of the Sun. _ If anyone knows of others; plz leave the titles in my review section to inform other readers, k? Anyhow, don't want to linger any longer, except to say THX a million for reading and for the new reviews. And, to putscheschka, who is a great reviewer: don't worry, IF I decide to heal Mozenrath's bone arm…the road there will NOT be an easy one! LOL; anyhow, Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 31: Dungeons & Fury _

When Aladdin and the others found sultan in his throne room, his little body was quivering with pent up fury.

"Where…have…you…all…_been_!?"

Aladdin had known his future father-in-law would be angry…yet seeing the normally jolly man so was—

Aladdin felt as though Carpet had yanked himself out from under his feet.

"Uh…." His tongue was sluggish and wouldn't work suddenly.

Thankfully Jasmine was right behind him. "Father," she began, hurrying to him.

"Daughter! Where did you all _go_!?" the sultan gestured wildly. "Have you any idea how _worried_ we all were!?"

"I'm sorry father," was the hasty reply; she placed her hands comfortingly on his shaking shoulders, "We should have told you ahead of time-"

Genie, the animals, and finally Sadira trailed in behind them. Razoul and a couple guards stood near the sultan, having been delivering report just as Al and the others arrived. Aladdin squirmed, reflexively feeling eyes on him. He checked his peripherals…and sure enough, Razoul's dark eyes were scrutinizing him—no, Aladdin realized; not him.

What—who—he was carrying. Mozenrath was wrapped in a dark tawny cloak, but Aladdin could see the gears in Razoul's eyes working…figuring out-

Oh, no.

"Sultan," Razoul cut in abruptly.

Jasmine took in the scene in less than a second. "Father," she urgently said, half turning the sultan away from Razoul, "we need to speak to you about something important—in private."

"If that be the case, princess," Razoul suddenly said with great formality, "the other guards and I will take our leave." He and the others bowed and they turned to the nearest door.

Jasmine and Al met eyes; both sighed in relief. Razoul must not have—

"And shall I take the dark wizard with us?" the guard casually added.

Al and Jaz both repressed groans. _Blast it all._

"Oh, boy," Iago muttered from Genie's shoulder.

"What!?" the sultan exclaimed, riveting to Razoul. "_What_ dark wizard?!"

Razoul pointed to Aladdin, who was holding Mozenrath, almost undistinguishable beneath the long cloak-almost.

The sultan was instantly across the throne room and in front of his daughter's betrothed.

"Aladdin!? How could you possibly-!?"

"Father, that's what we must speak about," Jaz pleaded, tossing Razoul a scathing glare.

He ignored her. She wasn't sultan, after all.

"Daughter, I demand an explanation!"

"I'm _trying_ to give you one, Father!" Jasmine countered spreading her arms helplessly.

Sadira snapped her fingers, and the palace shook. Everyone was immediately still—and silent.

Another snap; the palace stilled.

"Sadira!" sultan bit out; his little hands in fists.

"I'm sorry, my sultan," Sadira calmly said, "but everyone _was_ starting to unravel."

Razoul's eyes narrowed. "And shall I take the sand witch, as well as the wizard boy to the dungeons, sultan?" Sadira's eyes flashed at him: _you just try it, _they said.

The sultan took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was no demeanor becoming a ruler, he reflected. "No, Razoul, I want to hear what has transpired. And Sadira is hardly a criminal."

"That remains to be seen," the guard replied under his breath.

"Daughter," sultan said expectantly, facing Jasmine again.

The princess took a quick breath, and then plunged into their tale.

Starting with Genie's revelation of planetary alignments and their inherent powers, Jasmine related, quickly and succinctly, Xerxes's appearance and plea for aid, their debate and decision to help followed by their journey to the Land of the Black Sand. She took that into their entry via the secret passage and discovery of Mozenrath, fed off of and tortured, she only touched on 'having to battle some creatures to reach him,' and nothing more on that; she concluded with facing Desdane—_very much alive_—and extravagantly detailed not only Desdane's power and menace, but Sadira's heroic rescue of them and her skillful treating of Mozenrath.

"I owe you a very deep gratitude indeed, Sadira," the sultan quietly said when his daughter finished; his face and body weighed down with shock. He returned to his throne and after seating himself, looked the group over; reassuring himself they were all present and unharmed.

Jasmine was suddenly very thankful she and Aladdin had drunk that hideous brew; she couldn't imagine facing him now, covered in bites and slashes from a spectral vampire.

He was silent for a full minute before speaking. "You risked your lives to save this evil child…." His voice was more musing and incredulous, than questioning. He lifted his gaze from the marble floor. "_Why_, Jasmine!? You could have been _killed_! Or worse! If his master has returned then their quarrel is between them-"

"If I may sultan," Sadira demurely said, and he turned to her, "a magical feud never remains between master and apprentice. And, we _would_ have been here sooner…but we had to take Carpet. It was too chancy for me to teleport everyone again. Not with Desdane's magic gaze still roving the area. I had to use my magic to block him—it's partly my fault."

Jasmine shot her a grateful look. Sadira pretended to not catch it.

She sounded genuinely apologetic and sultan seemed to relax some. "Sadira," he replied, his voice every inch the ruler, "you are in no way responsible for any of this-" his eyes cut into everyone else in the group, declaring quite loudly '_everyone else is, though_,' "you're the only reason they're still alive now."

"My liege," Razoul asked, "what is to be done with the treacherous wizard?"

Xerxes snarled threateningly at the guard. Razoul met his gaze icily and placed a hand on his sword in reply. Xerxes didn't recoil though; he only barred his teeth.

Sultan sighed. He didn't like the idea of the wizard being free, tortured or not; his kingdom had been held by the wicked boy once before; the sultan couldn't stomach the idea of chancing that again.

This could, after all; all be a trick.

"He'll have to be kept under close watch-"

"Please father, not the dungeon-"

Razoul exhaled shortly. The princess was always far too sentimental; her choice of husband was extravagant proof. "He should be beheaded before he even wakes," he snapped in frustration. _Was he the only one who cared about the safety of the kingdom!? _

The wretched little eel lunged at him, hissing loudly. Before Razoul could even react, the eel had his teeth in his shoulder.

"Yaaaahhhh!"

"Xerxes, Razoul!" the sultan exclaimed, "enough!"

The eel chased Razoul around snarling and biting, every time the guard reached for his sword, Xerxes sank his teeth into the offending hand. The other guards jarred themselves from their surprise-induced paralysis and pursued the eel, even as he relentlessly assaulted Razoul, but Xerxes effortlessly avoided them, biting any hands that got too close.

"Yow!" "Ouch!" "Slimy creature!" "Get it!" "There it goes!" "Flying menace!"

Aladdin sighed. "Genie, you'd better break it up." No response; only the sound of crunching.

Aladdin turned; there were Genie, with Abu on one shoulder and Iago on the other…each munching bags of popcorn. Al raised a brow at them. Genie swallowed his snack.

"Ohhhhh! C'mon Al!"

Aladdin only looked at him.

Genie deflated. "But I've never seen this one before! I wanna see how it ends!"

Aladdin continued to stare flatly.

Genie poofed away the treats with Abu and Iago both objecting loudly. "Ughhhh! Oh…all right," Genie groaned and pointed a finger.

One poof later and Xerxes and the guards were all frozen in the air, held by azure light…the guards bite marks bandaged up.

"I get to at least watch the sequel, though, right?" Genie chanced.

"There won't be one," Aladdin bluntly said, walking over to Xerxes. Abu hopped on his shoulder as he moved.

After reaching the eel, Al nodded to his friend, who plucked the eel out of thin air and gave him a brief shake. Xerxes came out of it, flailing a bit as he regained his bearings.

"We risked our necks to save your master," Aladdin forcefully reminded the eel, who had the sense to look sheepish, "there won't be any more of that; understood?"

Xerxes, properly chagrined, nodded.

"Ok then." They returned to the others and Genie poofed the guards back to themselves.

As the guards regained their senses, Aladdin walked over to sultan, careful to not jostle Mozenrath too much. He set the wizard down at sultan's feet as gently as he could. Sultan watched with his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Aladdin—"

"Please sultan," Aladdin entreated, on one knee beside Mozenrath, "I think it'll help if you see this."

With that, he opened the cloak and let sultan take in Mozenrath's ashen face, sunken eyes and the bandages on nearly all of his exposed skin, whatever the navy robe didn't conceal. His bone arm, Aladdin noted thankfully, Sadira had wrapped in a blue-silver silk; he wanted to spare sultan at least that much.

"I treated his injuries," Sadira reminded sultan softly, "he was tortured and beaten—"

Sultan flinched—

"—nearly to death," Sadira went on, "it'll take time for him to heal from this." She pointedly said nothing about needing the Elixir to cure his insanity; Sadira resolved it would be best to _limit_ the amount of panic Mozenrath's presence would no doubt stir up in the palace-

-as well as the rest of Agrabah, once word got out.

Sultan looked grimly, thoughtfully, down at the boy wizard for a long moment. He looked so young, the monarch thought, too young to be so vile.

"Father," Jasmine quietly pled. Sultan made the mistake of meeting her large cinnamon eyes.

They did him in, every time.

"Oh, very well, daughter," he conceded at length, "we shan't keep him in the dungeons."

Razoul rolled his eyes, but successfully withheld the groan. "Then, my sultan," he questioned, his voice barely concealing his own anger, "may I ask what is to be done to keep Agrabah safe from this…this…."

"We'll keep him in my room," Aladdin unexpectedly said, and everyone started.

"Al, are you sure?" Genie asked tentatively.

"Yes," Al firmly replied, and met the sultan's gaze again, "I'll take total responsibility for him. Genie can stay with me; one of us will always be watching him, and with Genie and Sadira here; Mozenrath won't be able to try anything."

Sultan appeared to mull it over; Razoul didn't bother to try and reason with him, he could see in the ruler's face it was too late for that. The street rat had won him over…again.

One day all of Agrabah would pay for their catering to the boy, Razoul was all too certain.

Especially now with yet another boy-jinx here; the only thing worse than the street rat was the wizard brat.

But, _both_ here were worst of all….

Razoul saw many extra shifts in his future until this blew over.

"Very well," sultan declared at last, and Aladdin and the others looked clearly relieved, "keep Mozenrath in your chambers—"

Razoul held in the groan.

"—but I'm stationing guards at your door," sultan added, and Razoul had the pleasure of watching the street rat blink at that, "they will be extra eyes to ensure Mozenrath does not leave your room, under any circumstances; at least not without my express permission."

"Very well father," Jasmine said, before Aladdin could object. She knew which battles could be won…and which were futile to even try.

Aladdin carefully gathered up the wizard, reflecting at the irony. Yesterday Mozenrath was a hated enemy, a villain more insidious than Jafar; today…Aladdin wasn't even sure what to call him.

But, as he re-wrapped the other in the linen cloak and gingerly carried him to his chamber, Al felt convicted in himself that "enemy" was no longer the right word.

He heard Genie and the others following behind.

As he left the throne room and made for the nearest staircase, he heard the distant sound of Jasmine's voice.

Briefly, he wondered why she remained behind.

He didn't notice Sadira stayed with her.

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**A/N: **I really wanted to get this done today; so, here it is! But, it's now 2am and I'm off to ZZZZZZZz land! Thanks for reading! I'm sure by now you've noticed I don't bite; so leave a review!


	32. Chapter 32: Awakening

**A/N: **So, I gotta say the feelings of being overwhelmed just continue w/ this story. As of today, we're at 2,858 readers. That's almost 3 thousand! I'm glad I'm sitting down…. Anyhow, I know this probably has gotten very redundant, but THANKS so MUCH! It's such a great feeling to know that the Aladdin series still has so much love out there (cause I love it too!); these characters are really great and I'm so happy to make a little contribution to Aladdin's world. I hope you all are continuing to enjoy; and again extra thanks to everyone who has left a review and/or questions about the fic. We've got quite a ways to go yet, so Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 32: Awakening_

As Aladdin headed for his chamber with Genie and the animals in tow, Sadira watched, her intuition keeping her feet planted-Jasmine wanted her to stay.

Her intuition, she had found once honing it, was never wrong.

"Jasmine was there something else?" her father asked with concern.

Sadira turned back to the princess just as she let out a tiny, steadying sigh. "Yes, father," her intense eyes bore into Razoul. "And, I'd like the guards to stay and listen; if that's all right." Her voice was pert; annoyed. Sadira grinned at the guards' confused surprise.

"Well, of course, dearest," and the sultan let the question of "what about?" hang in the air.

Jasmine turned soberly to Sadira. "Sadira, did you bring the scrolls?"

Sadira lifted the leather bag in answer.

"Good; then, would you please tell my father and the guards about the war between the witches of the sand and the Land of the Black Sand?" Jasmine glanced at Razoul and added: "The one that lasted thousands of years?"

Sadira had never seen Razoul's eyes so big before. It was almost funny.

Except that her intuition was also warning that terrible days were coming.

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By the time Sadira was through, Jasmine had the grim satisfaction of her father's guardsmen looking paler than she had ever thought possible. Jasmine rarely had vindictive feelings, but between the guards' animosity towards Aladdin (Razoul especially) and how often over the years they had done more harm than good when Agrabah lay in the path of disaster…well—

For once, she wanted them to understand just how dire the situation truly was.

Because every last sword would be needed to save the Seven Deserts; of that she was convinced.

"He'll bring war to Agrabah," Sadira said by way of conclusion, "and all the Seven Deserts. But this time, there's no Empire of Sand Witches to stop him."

They all stood around the sultan's long, golden table in his throne room. More often than not this table was used for games or the ruler's vast array of lavish toys…it was hurtful to Jasmine on some level to see her joyful father's "toy table" used for such a dark purpose.

But dark times were on the horizon, she gravely reminded herself.

"I see," was all the sultan quietly said, his expression lined with the deepest worry. "And there are no clues as to how this travesty came to an end?"

"None, sultan," Sadira evenly replied. "I've read every book and scroll about it I can get my hands on and…nothing. It was like no one survived the ending to tell how it came about."

Two of the guards gulped at that; the sultan was deathly silent.

"Father," Jasmine said, "Mozenrath fought Desdane years ago and won—"

The sultan's attention riveted to her at that.

"He drained Desdane of all his magic and locked him in the form of a mamlock—"

Razoul made a disgusted noise. Jasmine ignored it and pressed on.

"That's why we need Mozenrath; and healed. He's the only one who has ever fought Desdane and survived it."

"And why do we need the wizard brat to survive it princess?" Razoul asked flatly. "All the better if they destroyed each other."

Sadira glowered at him. "Because if Mozenrath lives, it'll be a certainty that Desdane is dead. And…if they destroyed each other and Desdane found a way to come back again…who would be around to stop him? You?"

Razoul's glower would have melted steel. Sadira only glared back; folded her arms.

"All right," sultan interrupted, waving their silent standoff away, "I agree that for the time being, as we have a common enemy, all differences ought to be put aside—"

Sadira stuck her tongue out at Razoul when the sultan wasn't looking; Jasmine held back a snicker.

Sultan paced a bit around the table, thoughtful. "—but we mustn't take it for granted, Jasmine, that after this conflict is over, Mozenrath won't try to betray us; perhaps at once even."

Jasmine nodded solemnly; she'd already thought of that.

"Sultan," Sadira interceded, "if I may, I'd like to make a request against that debt you say you owe me."

Razoul bristled; how dare she-!?

Sultan nodded, catching how grim her tone was, despite her…less than diplomatic phrasing.

"The old palace of the witches of the sand is still below here…below all of Agrabah for that matter."

"Yes," sultan prompted.

"Well, though I've seen little bits and pieces of it, I'd like your permission to explore, with unlimited access, all the remainder of it—"

Razoul actually grabbed his blade at that and took a step forward. Too dangerous; who knew what the street mouse would find and use against the sultan—

Sultan raised an arm without turning, silently ordering Razoul to stand down. Razoul begrudgingly did; noticing the frown marring what little of sultan's face he could see.

"There must be a clue someplace that can tell us how the war ended, and why; and I'm sure if it's anywhere," Sadira gestured emphatically, "it must be in the Old Palace."

Sultan took it in with a slow nod. "You may be right, Sadira." He pondered a moment; seeing no better options at hand. "Very well; you have my full permission…but, please be careful. You don't know what's down there; it's a ruin after all. There might be floors that give way, or ceilings that collapse without warning. Don't go alone."

"I won't; Genie can come with me."

Sultan nodded again. "I think that'd be best."

Sadira smiled; the sultan was always so kind to her, had she ever known her own father, she would have hoped him to be just like sultan. "Thank you, _my sultan_," she said with a low, humble bow—_take that Razoul!_—and followed after the others.

That'll teach that idiot guard to question her loyalties! She threw him a tiny smirk of _'so there!'_ as she walked out.

The heavy doors clanked shut behind her, so she didn't see sultan turn to his daughter or the urgent way he asked her: "Now Jasmine…what about _the wedding!?"_

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Everything hurt; that was the first thing Mozenrath realized as his murky senses tried to claw their way to wakefulness. Reality felt like oil, constantly slipping between the fingers of his bleary, unfocused awareness.

But, as his mind fought and grasped for the waking world, he gradually registered he was laying on something…soft. And he felt the warmth of a fresh breeze on his face.

He didn't smell blood…and was that voices he heard?

For some reason, they sounded familiar. He grimaced, tearing viciously at his weariness, reaching for the real world.

His dark eyes squinted open. Light met them and attacked, slashing into his gaze.

He bit back a cry and squeezed his eyes shut. But, he had seen, in that split second, a room. A room he didn't recognize.

He wasn't in the Citadel then.

So…where was he?

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**A/N: **Yes, I'm being mean, ending it here. LOL; anyways, Mozenrath is awake! I know some of you had mentioned frustration over how long it was taking…but I hope you understand why it took all those chapters to do it. Anyhow…plz review! But, most of all; enjoy the ride!


	33. Chapter 33: Eternal Vows

**A/N: **OK, so here we are, nearly 3,000 readers! Mozenrath is awake…will his snark be affected by what he's been through. Well, do we really need to ask? LOL. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 33: Eternal Vows _

The next thing Mozenrath knew, a familiar voice was at his side.

"Master awake? Master awake?" he asked, his voice saturated with urgency.

Xerxes.

Mozenrath actually felt his lips curl in a smile. "You disobedient creature," he whispered; his throat dry and aching in protest. He forced his eyes open again; the piercing light be had, he was going to see where he was.

He squinted against its renewed assault; and to his right side, over his shoulder, hovered

The faithful eel.

"I told you to save yourself," Mozenrath croaked icily, his voice broken and barely audible.

Xerxes replied with a sad, mournful expression, then: "No gave word save self. Gave word serve master…always."

Xerxes must have realized that his head was throbbing; he was keeping his voice low. Mozenrath reached up, letting out a long breath…his lungs burned and he resisted a flinch. He patted Xerxes lightly on the head, noticing then his bone arm was wrapped…in silk?

It was a fine silk too; cobalt-silver in color. He looked down.

He was clean, no blood or torn garb; he was clothed in a floor-length, navy robe with three-quarter sleeves. But…who?

"Where are we, Xerxes?" he asked in disbelief. Someone had saved him; it was the only logical explanation…but that _in itself_ was illogical.

He had no friends, no allies…who would be as insane as to-?!

No…it couldn't be _them_.

His dark eyes met the eel's again. "Please tell me it wasn't _Aladdin_."

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From the palace's highest balcony, Sadira found it hard to keep her mind-set grave, even as she conjured orbs of scarlet, gold and violet light and piled them Carpet so he could scatter them over Agrabah from the air. The sand witch had no inflated sense of self; she was all too aware these Ward Spheres wouldn't last forever against an onslaught of power such as Desdane's—not once he regained full strength anyhow—but, they would keep him at bay for a time.

Time enough to make a plan to defeat him-before he could replenish himself fully; she hoped.

But, even so, as Sadira peered down into Agrabah, as she took in the procession of last-minute arrivals for Aladdin and Jasmine's royal wedding…it was hard to forget today was meant to be a happy day.

Especially when Genie was going all out, singing to the citizens and guests alike, poofing newspapers telling them all about his two engaged friends and overall making the celebration to come…well, a celebration.

Even as Carpet swooped around over Agrabah, grabbing each orb with a tassel and placing it in the sky to hover like a lamp, Genie was conjuring magic of his own: smothering the city below in wedding banners, flowers, poofing fine garb for people who couldn't afford it; even down to finding places for travelers to 'park' their camels—and a lone elephant, Sadira noted.

War looming or not, there was a party here in Agrabah; Genie was waging his own battle—the battle to keep the wedding on schedule.

Part of Sadira wanted to get angry at Genie for 'wasting' his time and magic on the nuptials when in a few days, they might all be too dead to care if Al and Jaz got married or not.

But, if they only had a few days left…wouldn't she want her friends to face them married, rather than die without every taking the vow "till death do us part"? A pit formed in her stomach.

She sighed; rubbed her forehead. There was no right answer, at least not that she could see.

So, it was better to focus on something she could take action on: like the Underground Palace.

From what she had seen when Shakata and the other two had used the bird-head scepter to raise the old structure, it was as vast as the entire city. Surely something so…monolithic would possess at least a single clue that could aid them in defeating Desdane. Somehow, even though they had lost too, the witches had thwarted the deranged sorcerer.

But: how? That was the tantalizing, and frustratingly elusive question.

If the palace lay beneath all of Agrabah, then it was safe to assume that the center of the palace was directly beneath the sultan's abode; he and Jasmine's home laid directly at the center of Agrabah…so most likely the nexus of the sand witches' dwelling was directly beneath her feet.

But: how to get there? If only she had some sort of magic passageway, like the one Al and the others took to enter the Land of the Black Sand.

Wait—en route here from Sadira's ruin, Jasmine had remarked that it was strange that the passageway Xerxes had shown them was crafted of grey stone…when the stone around the Citadel was amber.

Had the witches built a network of tunnels beneath the Land of the Black Sand then—for espionage and or sabotage perhaps? And if they had…they would have most likely placed at least some beneath their own territories.

Were there tunnels that led to the Old Palace? And if so, how could she locate one?

Maybe Jib knew. She exhaled sharply, suddenly wishing he was here; he was thousands of years old…perhaps he had seen the tunnels or could reveal to her where they were. It was such a pity that Genie was trapped in his lamp all that time; perhaps a magic worker older than herself—

She heard Iago suddenly down below exclaiming about how much 'loot was pouring in' by way of presents. She sighed; sometimes she wondered why the old Vizier had taken him in—

Hold on; the old vizier had been a sorcerer…had _he_ discovered the Old Palace? Iago had never mentioned anything about it…but if Jafar had found a tunnel leading in, he might not have told Iago; either for fear he would blab to someone (he did have such a mouth!) or…more likely, he couldn't find a way to manipulate sand witch relics and was too embarrassed to reveal that to his feathered partner.

Sorcerers were all so _proud_, after all.

But, had he found a way in? He had used a secret labyrinth of chambers in the lower catacombs of the palace…his labs and whatnot. Sadira completed her last Sphere just as Carpet swooshed down to meet her, saluting smartly.

"You're doing great, Carpet," she amiably said and then waved at the pile of Wards glimmering beside her, "would you mind placing these? I have to…talk to Al and Jaz about something."

Carpet, always too eager to help, nodded vigorously and easily maneuvered his colorful form beneath the pile so they were suddenly perched on his flat back. Sadira grinned at his ingenuity.

"Thanks. I'll be back."

Another nod, and Carpet was off; Sadira headed for Aladdin's room.

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It made Cassim nervous; as he sat on his horse, his face and most of his body concealed beneath a draping royal blue cloak, taking in the city.

He had walked the streets just last night; late even.

So, where did all _these decorations_ materialize from!?

He caught Sahid's uneasy glance; riding a stallion beside him.

"Something's amiss here, Cassim."

"I know; keep alert. Whatever…caused this _display_ will show itself."

"What if a wizard dwells in Agrabah?"

"We would have heard of a wizard."

"Or a sorceress?"

"Just the same. We were careful in gathering our information; I gleaned nothing—did you?"

A shake of the head. "I still don't like it though."

"Neither do I; but we're keeping to the plan. I need that…." He let the sentence hang. Sahid already knew about the Oracle. Cassim's eyes veered to the Palace; it was so close. By now, the Oracle was surely adorning the sultan's private treasure room.

So, so close. He could practically feel his arms around his boys again. When he found them, he would never allow them to be taken away again; he had sworn it, night after night after night.

_I will find our boys, Bashirah; I give you my most solemn oath, _he silently pledged for the ten thousandth time.

Sahid, curse his eternal perceptiveness, must have read his face…despite its invisibility beneath his cowl.

"We won't fail, Cassim," he quietly promised.

Cassim only nodded, struggling to keep focused. His men were all hidden in baskets of "gifts" he and the other horse-mounted riders were supposedly delivering to the bride and groom. He saw a checkpoint up ahead where some guards…(and a red bird?), were taking the presents on behalf of the engaged couple. But, they already had a plan to get by them.

When in doubt, threats and high rank always worked.

"You think we would simply leave such extravagant gifts with some random guards?" Sahid imperiously declared after being told to leave the baskets at the gate. "Hah! We are to bring _our_ treasures for the dear princess and her groom directly to the _sultan himself_. We will trust them to no one else."

To Cassim's amazement, the parrot actually seemed to swoon. "Ohhhhh, those must be some incredible gifts," it said, edging nearer to them with lit eyes.

It spoke? It actually spoke!

Sahid flawlessly pretended to disregard it though. "Now, stand aside, or when I see the good sultan, I'll ensure you're in the _dungeons_ by high noon."

Well, it was easy to feign being a snobbish royal or noble when you could deck yourself out in the finest garb you…_acquired_ on previous…jobs—ahem. They were impressively attired, and between that and their horses—the most illustrious breeds in all the Seven Deserts, effortlessly afforded no less—yes, the guards were convinced.

"Do forgive us, lordship; we're only following orders."

"Orders or not; step aside! If we are late for Jasmine's wedding, you'll be sorry!"

Oh; nice touch. Addressing the princess by first name? Under the pretense of forgetting one's self in a fit of indignant anger. Sahid was always magnificent. _What a King of Thieves he would_ _make_, Cassim often thought.

_As he was already, in many respects_, Cassim reflected, repressing a chuckle.

The guards demurely made a path for them; Cassim and the others regally rode on.

After they were out of earshot, Cassim couldn't help himself. "You practically frightened those men to death, Sahid. Show a little compassion."

Sahid chuckled in good humor. "I'm practicing for the day I over dethrone you and take over the 40 Thieves," he quipped evenly in reply.

Cassim glanced at him; Sahid appeared completely serious. Cassim played along, suddenly craving distraction.

"Oh; didn't you get that memo? I appointed Saluk my Official Over-thrower. Now, you don't want to hurt his feelings, do you?"

The Thieves in baskets near enough to overhear snickered. Cassim kicked one of the baskets.

And of course that made them giggle all the more. "We are professionals," Cassim lightly reminded them.

"Ohhh," one of them whispered, "but I left my suit at home!"

Sahid rolled his eyes. "Well, fire Saluk and give me the job."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'll do it better than Saluk, of course," was the indignant reply.

"Hey," one of the triplets whispered, "Saluk, you hear that? You're getting fired."

"Good!" another put in, "I call his share of the loot!"

Cassim kicked a couple more baskets. Really.

"And how can you be sure you'll do a better job?" Cassim eventually asked, after silence fell.

"Because," Sahid said with an air of tolerant patience, "I do everything better than Saluk."

"I heard that," Saluk growled from a basket. Baited. Cassim took the moment he was waiting for and kicked it…a little harder than the others.

Some titters drifted up from other baskets.

"I _told_ you all to be quiet," Cassim bluntly said.

Sahid rolled his eyes as Saluk grumbled from his basket.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Plz leave a review!


	34. Chapter 34: Faithfulness

**A/N: **Hello again; the writer's bug is back and biting! LOL; so…gonna get this outta my system. Hope you all like; as always, plz review. Thanks to my new reviewers, and those simply showing as 'guest.' Wish you guys would login in so I can say thanks more specifically! LOL. And thanks to my new reviewer, Asj Johnson. I took your advice and changed the story summary to show Mozenrath. Thanx for pointing that out Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 34: Faithfulness _

"Master should sleep more," Xerxes softly admonished when Mozenrath tried to sit up. He grimaced when his master didn't answer, but failed all the same in his goal.

Mozenrath hissed as his protesting body slumped back onto the ornate cobalt couch/bed.

"You worry too much over me, Xerxes," he muttered finally.

"Master not think of health, of healing."

"I am healing."

"But not fast as usual."

"I will."

Xerxes sighed; his master had always been stubborn…always too driven by getting what he wanted to think about what it often cost him to get what he wanted.

More often the price was higher than the prize; Xerxes thought of the Gauntlet fleetingly.

Mozenrath rubbed his forehead; Xerxes thought in frustration.

"You're too loyal, Xerxes."

Xerxes smiled at that. His master only said that when he was pleased by the eel's faithfulness, but would never admit to it. "Can never be too loyal to master," he said simply.

He heard his master snicker at that. He groaned as he tried to sit up again. This time he succeeded on getting himself slightly propped up on his right side. His hooded eyes met Xerxes's.

"Xerxes, tell me everything that has happened."

The eel nodded and began.

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When Jasmine returned to Aladdin's room, she caught sight of Mozenrath on the lavish bed she had originally bought for her fiancée. But, he had deemed it far too soft to sleep on and so across from it laid the cot he used now.

Xerxes was curled up beside his master, watching him breath quietly. He smiled in greeting as Jasmine came in and she returned it.

Who knew the little eel could grow on you so?

"Princess marries today," Xerxes reminded her in a hushed tone as she drew near to him and Mozenrath. The white marble walls of the high-ceilinged chamber only highlighted the greyish undertone of Mozenrath's normally alabaster skin. Jasmine gratefully observed though that the dark beneath his eyes and the sallow pallor did look much better than when they first arrived at Sadira's.

Thank heavens she acquired the Elixir of Life then. Jasmine caught a glimmer out of her peripherals and turned to the small table at the wizard's bed side; atop it, the golden goblet with the powerful Elixir sat, shining in the full sun.

Jasmine noted to herself they couldn't forget to return it later today. Sadira had promised two days and no more. Well, she had gotten it late yesterday night—day one. Today was day two.

They had to get it back to the guardian's by tonight.

"Princess unhappy," Xerxes observed.

Jasmine looked over at him, trying to smile again but couldn't. "This isn't how I imagined my wedding day," she confessed with a sigh. "But, we're alive; that's all that really matters."

Xerxes nodded. "Genie making day special outside."

That perked Jasmine's curiosity. Xerxes nodded to the open lattice doors leading to the large balcony. Jasmine made for them, her brow furrowed.

Genie's making the day special? That could mean anything; with Genie more than anyone.

Outside, Aladdin and Abu, with Rajah—who was brooding and twitching his tail in disgruntlement; most likely over Mozenrath's presence—stood near the balustrade, gazing at the city below.

"Jasmine," Al said when he heard her light footsteps. He rushed up to her and gave her a quick kiss. "I was wondering when you'd come. Did you see what Genie's been up to?"

Jasmine smiled and shook her head. And, surprise, surprise, Al wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the railing.

Genie below was having a heyday of it. Decorations were growing like glittering; ruffled weeds all over the tan-colored buildings. Streamers, confetti and flowers adorned every crevice and niche; but, Genie's 'chaos' was tasteful; everything was patterned in a lovely, elegant framework.

She even caught a choir of Genie's in blue robes singing by the wedding pavilion. She giggled; unable to stop herself. For a moment, it felt like how she imagined her wedding day would feel: light, wonderful…carefree. The smile fell from her face.

"He's been chatting with guests, helping the sultan seat everyone," Aladdin recited excitedly, not noticing; tallying on his fingers, "he's been doing the parking, the whole feast is prepared—he made half of it," Al chuckled, "I think he's forgotten he's not the one getting married."

"Aladdin," Jasmine hesitated. Her betrothed sounded towards the end…grieved? Mournful?

Regretful?

She winced; please, don't let it be that.

"My father asked if we're still marrying today," she said, unable to keep the tentativeness out of her voice.

Was Aladdin getting cold feet?

She felt better when Al tightened his grip on her little waist. He put his head down.

"Jaz…I wanna marry you _right now_."

Jasmine smiled—sadly—aware more was coming.

He looked up at the ecstatic processional below. "But…."

There it was: but.

"You're not sure," Jasmine supplied, her tone empty.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," Al said, his voice quiet, but firm; unyielding. "It's my dream to be with you, always."

"It's mine too," she said, running her fingers through his hair. Abu and Iago sensed where the conversation was going, and suddenly were fascinated by the other end of the balcony. Rajah soundlessly trailed behind them; hating distancing himself from his friend in her dejection; that's when he was always there to comfort her.

Aladdin wound his other arm around Jasmine's shoulder, holding her close. He rested his nose on her head, breathing in the fragrance of her silky hair.

"All I want is for this to all go away; so we can marry and think of nothing else," he admitted, his tone heavy and burdened.

Jasmine nodded. "I know; I want that too."

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Mozenrath never thought the moment would come when he wished he was back in that wretched dungeon…but now that Xerxes had filled him in on all that he'd 'missed' between blacking out from blood loss and now…well—

It was horrible; _everything _was horrible.

The street rat. He had to have been saved by the street rat.

Xerxes sulked beside him, probably thinking Mozenrath blamed him.

"You saw no other way, Xerxes."

Xerxes nodded, still looking…chastised. "Only wanted to save master."

"I know." Faintly, he caught voices nearby. Aladdin's no doubt; but he had been asleep when the princess came in…but they seemed to be getting closer, so he'd know soon enough.

Mozenrath seethed; he had no doubt that they only rescued him because they knew that he was the only one in history to ever battle Desdane and win. And so, they felt they needed him.

And they were right; they did, not even Aladdin's endless luck would save him from Desdane. Xerxes's tale about them being rescued by another magician proved that well enough.

Used; again, he was being used…first by Desdane, now by them.

He choked his anger back down. Later…first, he'd heal. Then he'd have his most extravagant revenge on his old "master"…and then Aladdin and his comic relief would pay for trying to manipulate him with 'kindness'—as if he were ever fool enough to be taken in by that!

He wanted to fully give in to his rage; that safe feeling of power and invincibility that enveloped him whenever he allowed his fury full release.

But…he suddenly realized the healing magic that permeated his body wasn't genie magic.

What!?

The…other magician _healed_ him. Shock allowed his intrigue swallowed him whole and he forced himself to sit up, every inch of his body wailing in protest—plus Xerxes hovering over him, his tail twitching anxiously.

"I'm all right, Xerxes," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off vertigo. He shuddered and blinked away the blurred images until they were replaced by clear ones.

Why would a strange…_unknown_ magician heal him? Magicians were rarely allies…and never did…_selfless_ acts of magical healing for each other.

Did she expect a payment? _That had to be it_, Mozenrath deduced. But, there had to be more to it than that.

Not only was his completely _broken_ and maimed body repaired…but the gaping cavities where Desdane had ripped out his magical cores were…replaced.

His magic was replenishing itself. Amazed disbelief made him lightheaded. He delved within himself deeper, just to be certain.

Yes; every single iota within him where magic dwelt was healing, mending. His magic would make a full recovery.

He couldn't stop himself from gulping; stupefied. His magic was vast and formidable; what this magician would have had to expend of herself to accomplish this…he reeled inside, thinking about it.

But…why _would _she?! For what gain; because of Desdane only…for some reason, that didn't seem plausible to Mozenrath.

A glitter of gold caught his eye. He turned.

The Golden Goblet of the Elixir of Life before him.

How!? How had that street rat-!?

No; it wasn't him, but the _other magician_.

Mozenrath was about to ask Xerxes just who this mysterious sorceress was…when he heard:

"…but, is it a good idea to get married today?"

"Yes, it is," he heard himself say in reply.

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**A/N: **Ah, writer's bug speaks, and I must obey. Leave a review! Thanks for reading


	35. Chapter 35: On the Horizon

**A/N: **I think one more chapter and writer's bug with be satiated. Please review! Thx for reading Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 35: On the Horizon_

Aladdin and Jasmine wordlessly made their way into his room, unaware that Mozenrath and Xerxes were conversing quietly to their far left.

Aladdin gently broke from his intended, rubbing the back of his neck in worry. "Jaz, you do know I want to marry you, right?"

"Yes," she assured him.

"I just can't stop thinking of what's about to happen: war with Desdane, those creatures inside his Citadel…and Sadira seemed to imply that more was coming. I just feel that if we marry today…is it right? Are we thinking about ourselves but not others?"

Jasmine pursed her lips; she could see what he meant…but. "My father, Genie and Sadira want us to marry today. Everything's set and the guests are here, after all."

"I want that too," Aladdin confessed quietly, his shoulders slumping. He didn't care about marrying for the guests' sake; but, it would be callous and rude to cancel things and send them all away now.

He was doing it again, the impulse of the self-sacrificing _Hero_ against Aladdin the man, the _human being_. But, Jasmine was consoled to know that he still wanted to marry her; his doubts weren't about _them_, just the timing.

She shook her head, knowing she was giving in to marital jitters; she knew full well in her heart that she and Aladdin were meant to be. She had to stop giving in to fearful stress.

Especially _lying_ fearful stress. Aladdin seemed lost in his thoughts.

"But…is it a good time to marry?" he finally asked.

Jasmine opened her mouth to answer, when a voice behind her said: "Yes, it is."

She gaped; he was awake!?

She spun around; Aladdin was instantly at her side, arm wrapped around her waist and all.

"Mozenrath, you're awake!" Aladdin exclaimed.

The wizard rolled his hooded eyes. "I'm so glad too; for how could I endure another moment without your awe-inspiring insights, Aladdin?" His tone slick with sarcasm.

For all the torment he endured, for all the unimaginable horrors, Jasmine had to admit he still exuded every inch of strength, confidence…and _arrogance_ of the Sorcerer Lord that he ever did.

In a twisted sense, it was impressive.

And his tongue clearly wasn't dulled by what he had suffered. Somehow, that part didn't surprise her.

"How are you feeling?" Aladdin asked, making his way to the cot across from Mozenrath's bed.

"Marvelous," the other quipped dryly and regarded Aladdin a moment; clearly mulling over something.

"Why do you say we should marry today?" Jasmine asked at length, "What difference does it make to you?" He did everything for a reason…and his motivation for that last remark…she was at a loss over that.

"It doesn't; and as for my 'reason,' I'll play it safe and blame it on a head injury," Mozenrath flatly replied as Jasmine sat down beside Al. "But, realistically, this is your only chance; if you don't take the vows today…you never will."

Aladdin stilled; Jasmine felt a cold chill creep over her—despite the scorching heat outside. She glanced at Xerxes; it was a mistake. The pitying expression he wore did not reassure her.

"Why, why do you say that?" she asked, forcing her voice to not quiver.

"Because I know what you're about to face…and you don't."

"Oh?" Aladdin answered his voice stony. "Then, please-" he gestured, "enlighten us."

"I usually do." Was the flippant response.

"Oh, joy; he's awake," came from the lattice doorway, followed by the sound of a throaty growl.

Iago, sitting on Rajah's back with Abu came in; the tiger's golden eyes not leaving Mozenrath even as he made his way to Jasmine's little feet, where he sat—only sat, not laid down as usual.

_So he could pounce on Mozenrath if need be_, Jasmine intuited. For good measure Rajah bared his massive teeth for the wizard.

Mozenrath seemed to glean as much himself; but he only glanced at the large cat and smirked as though humored by the implied threat. "You have a very devoted pet, princess."

Jasmine stroked Rajah's head reassuringly. Having Rajah on edge would help no one. "He's a good friend," was all she said.

"Hmmm, I wasn't referring to the cat." Mozenrath spared Aladdin an entertained glance, and then petted Xerxes head. It took Jasmine a moment to realize Xerxes didn't repeat his master's words…unlike _every other time_ Mozenrath scored a jab off Aladdin.

Why? Did he not approve anymore? Her stomach twisted hopefully. She couldn't stop her lips from twitching in a tiny smile. Xerxes, to her amazement, saw it and chanced a small smile back at her.

Mozenrath caught the direction of her gaze and narrowed his dark eyes at her, clearly wondering why she was fixating on his servant. His body tensed; Jasmine caught it.

She pressed Aladdin's hand; thankfully her betrothed understood her alarm.

"Why was Desdane able to come back last night, Mozenrath?" he was going to ask that anyways, but since Jaz was worried about something happening, he'd ask now. Get the wizard's attention off of…whatever it was he was focused on before.

Mozenrath's cold eyes scrutinized him. "He used the alignment."

"Of planets?"

Mozenrath only rolled his eyes. The dungeon or dealing with the street rat's _endless_ stupidity? Which was worse?

The street rat; _always_ the street rat; bar none.

"_How_ did he use it?" the princess inquired.

The wizard boy mostly repressed a small sigh. "He said that he was aware I would one day turn against him."

Dead silence all around. Mozenrath nodded; affirming their shock was well-placed. He had known Desdane better than anyone—even that annoying cat sorceress Mirage. But, if he had been caught off guard…it meant Desdane was craftier than anyone ever suspected.

Him included.

"He must have used some sort of relic," he went on, sounding more like musing aloud than informing others; he rubbed his brow again, "all magicians of any measure of power knew for years, decades…_centuries even_ that this alignment was coming-"

Abu gulped.

"But, that doesn't mean that they all wielded enough power to summon strength from it," Mozenrath clarified. "Of all of us, only a few can draw upon an alignment's potency. It's tricky…and extremely dangerous."

"What a shock," Iago mumbled. Crazy wizard boy delving into dangerous magic…say it ain't so….

Mozenrath tossed him a brief glower, but pressed on. "It would have been necessary for him to prepare for many years; possibly 20 or 30, perhaps more."

"But, by what process?" Jasmine asked.

Mozenrath's gaze unfocused, clearly deep in thought. "He would have to extract a vast amount of energy from an extreme magical source—"  
"Such as?"

"It's probably what he did with the Phoenix magic he drained," Mozenrath said, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and Xerxes winced—no doubt in sympathy.

"He drained a phoenix?" Aladdin numbly questioned and Mozenrath only nodded but then after a moment added:

"It wasn't a pretty thing to watch; they're ethereal by nature…they become solid only when—"

He shook his head and dropped the subject there.

"But phoenixes are immortal by themselves," Jasmine said, gesturing with one hand, "if he had that magic, couldn't he just use it to _be_ immortal?"

Mozenrath gave her a look that almost resembled respect. "Yes and no. Yes: he _did_ use it to achieve immortality; no, he couldn't use it to stay immortal always in _his own form_."

Mozenrath watched the light go off in her large caramel eyes. "Oh; so you were still able then, to make him a mamlock. He was still alive, and immortal, just not human any longer."

Mozenrath nodded; glanced at Aladdin. The street rat seemed lost in his thoughts. Incredible—he might actually _have_ thoughts then.

They were probably as rare as the planetary alignment outside, Mozenrath reminded himself.

"But, how could he have used a relic to do all of this without your finding it later?" Aladdin finally asked. "I doubt you don't know every inch of that Citadel. You lived their nearly all your life."

_Nearly?_ Mozenrath thought, _nearly? How did he know?_

And then epiphany struck: Xerxes. So, his 'faithful' servant had been telling tales to his enemies.

He made a note to find out just how _many tales_ and _about what_ about later.

_Later_. He pretended to not notice the street rat's slip. "It's easy; he could have simply sent it off into another dimension. It didn't have to remain in the Citadel."

_After all, he didn't keep my stolen memories there_. The street rat was right: had Desdane attempted to conceal anything from Mozenrath within the Citadel, he'd've found it-without fail.

The large door to their chamber suddenly swung open and a servant rushed in.

She walked very quickly and purposefully up to the princess and street rat, stopping briefly to look him over before saying, "Oh, good, you're awake." And then she turned to his servant.

"How is he, Xerxes?"

"Master feeling better," the eel replied, deciding to rest then on the wizard's shoulder.

Mozenrath clamped his jaw shut to keep from gawking in disbelief. This servant girl…speaking to him? Speaking to his servant? Just walking into their chamber without knocking and asking permission? Incredible! Mozenrath opened his mouth to put her in her place…and then he sensed it:

Magic—coming off of her, in waves.

The exact type of magic he sensed even now mending his body back together.

No; this couldn't be her.

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**A/N: **Ok, you guys got multiple chapters outta me again today. So, enjoy; plz leave a review!


	36. Chapter 36: Meeting of the Mages

**A/N: **I continue to be flabbergasted by how many ppl are reading this fic…3,655 as of today! Just…just incredible! I'm sooo blown away by it…THX, THX SOOOO VERY MUCH! And an extra thanks to all my reviewers who awesomely leave their feedback for me to chew on; it means a VAST deal, really. But, I'm sitting at home while the Midwest gets hammered with snow and ice; so…of to the Seven Deserts we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 36: Meeting of Mages_

Mozenrath tried to keep his ivory face as neutral and…devoid of amazed disbelief as he could whilst watching this…_sand witch_?

_A sand witch_?! Truly?!

It was impossible; but even as she stood before him, talking to the princess and street rat, like they were all _old friends_, about the wards she placed around Agrabah and how long she expected them to hold off Desdane…he wrestled with his senses, which wanted to numb, dumbfounded.

How could this be? Firstly, she was too young to be so powerful; yes…he was still young, only 19, but he was exceptional; that he'd known for some time. But…this girl, Mozenrath took in her ragged green tunic with patched sleeves, torn sash and ivory pants—and _bare feet_!?

It was unbelievable. Scandalous even; what was the magical world _coming to_!?

The princess caught him scrutinizing their…friend and gestured to the girl.

"Mozenrath, this is Sadira."

The girl turned to him, her face expectant…but he could see a glint in her eyes that told him she was anticipating him to be…less than civil.

For a moment he wondered if he should be polite, just to throw her off.

"You are truly a sand witch?" he heard himself say instead.

Sadira, to his surprise, snickered, and folded her arms casually. "Well, that's still a work in progress," she said with flippant self-debasement. "But I did 'inherit' their magic, in so many words."

"She's the sorceress who killed the Sentry," Jasmine went on, clearly bragging on her behalf, "and she faced Desdane."

Mozenrath cringed inside, imagining how wrathful Desdane was that such a low-looking girl had the gall to battle him. The thought crossed his mind that he might not be receiving the worst punishment the old sorcerer could conjure up, after all.

He almost pitied the little sand witch.

But, he was surprised by her again when she laughed at the princess's words. "'Faced' Desdane? Killed Sentry?" she giggled. "Oh, Jaz, you make me up to be such a mighty warrior!"

She laughed. The street rat shook his head, smiling wanly, Jaz pursed her lips, smirking.

"Well, it is true, Sadira," Jasmine insisted.

"It's true that I ambushed Desdane, and got him by surprise; and that I killed Sentry with the magic Spear of Olgomith. That's more luck than skill, when you think about it."

Mozenrath felt his dry lips tug in a small smile; her modesty was…refreshing.

And her laugh was light and musical; he found he…_didn't mind_…the sound of it.

"Give yourself some credit, Sadira," Aladdin told her amiably when she finished laughing.

Sadira quirked her lips in response. "I'll give myself credit when I do something worthwhile without luck or surprise."

Mozenrath cocked his head to one side. "You are the first to face Desdane in _any_ setting and live to tell of it," he soberly told her—Aladdin and the princess flinched at that—"I think you underestimate the full import of your actions."

_And the terrible consequences you'll pay for them later on,_ he added to himself. He almost pitied her; except he hadn't felt pity for anyone since…he couldn't remember.

But, the sand witch only twisted her lips, obviously mulling it over—but not in fear.

"Without luck or surprise," she flatly repeated after a moment.

My, but wasn't she a spunky little…whatever she was, Mozenrath reflected, still wrong-footed by her magic…but _street garb_.

The princess straightened a bit, her body language indicating she thought a change of topic in order.

"Sadira, when will you bring the Elixir of Life back to the stronghold?"

"Later, probably tonight; I'll have Jib do it when he gets back from updating the Guardians."

Mozenrath was puzzled by the princess's mischievous grin. "He certainly did enjoy his _promotion_: your Royal Emissary," she chuckled and the boy wizard blinked in surprise—this girl…_royal?!_—"perhaps you'll use my seamstresses to make him a proper uniform."

Sadira only gave her a flat stare; Jasmine chuckled.

"I'll think it over when I get back from your former Vizier's rooms," she said at length.

Aladdin started. "Why are you going to Jafar's rooms?"

"Because I think since he was here so long, he probably found a way into the Old Palace of the Sand Witches," her sapphire colored eyes narrowed, "he was sly enough—from what you all said. If he did, that's where I'll find the doorway."

It took Mozenrath only a moment to put the pieces together. "You believe a clue to how the Old War ended will be found there?"

He was rewarded by the street rat and his do-gooder entourage all gaping in shock. He didn't feel inclined to not gloat.

"Well, not all of us spend our days cornered by licentious sirens."

He was rewarded by Aladdin's face turning a lovely shade of scarlet—and the princess's dark glower.

Both were equally entertaining.

"You know, we should have just left him in that prison," the parrot muttered—and the monkey "wah-huhed" in agreement.

Mozenrath flexed his flesh hand, summoned his magic…to his delight, it responded.

A flicker of cobalt fire danced a moment around his fingers…he met the bird and monkey's gazes.

The both suddenly clammed up—the bird wide eyed.

But…the sand witch had to ruin his fun. She folded her arms and gave him a raised-eye brow look.

"Do I have to knock you over the head?" she asked, deadpan. "It'd be a shame, considering how much effort I took in putting you back together again."

Mozenrath's stomach fell at the underlying meaning. He let his magic return to healing.

So…Desdane had succeeded then. His inner self had been shattered…he had been driven insane.

But, this…sand witch…from an Order of longtime enemies of _his kingdom_…she had _helped_ him.

He still couldn't conceive _why_. But, he forced his confusion back and merely offered her a small grin.

"Well, far be it from me to spoil your efforts," he graciously quipped.

"Master not spoil efforts," Xerxes agreed, and Mozenrath tried to not show how…_unexpected _his servant's warm tone was.

What had happened while he was out? Xerxes had clearly not told him all.

His surprise only grew when Sadira reached out and patted Xerxes's head. "Well, at least you keep sensible company," the sand witched quipped at him in return, giving Mozenrath another 'look.'

And, to add insult to injury, Xerxes seemed to enjoy her attention.

He must still be asleep; surely, this…mad world he had 'awoken' to was just some delirium-induced nightmare.

But, he knew he wasn't that lucky. This cursed reality was surely…reality.

He decided it was best to return to business. Avoid the strangeness of what had just transpired for at least a little while.

"What do you hope to find below the palace, sand witch? What clues?"

Sadira, to her credit, sobered at once. "I'm…not entirely sure."

Mozenrath gave her a half-scathing look. He should have guessed, really.

Sadira caught it and her eyes hardened. "The documents I have about the old war are incomplete…like the ones," she said defensively, "that are in your library."

His peripherals showed the princess smile in approval. He glared.

"But…the historian did make some remarks about the war that I think imply that the sand witches knew the war itself was coming to a close," Sadira straightened from petting Xerxes and Mozenrath seethed that Xerxes seemed disappointed, "the all-important question is then: _how_ did they know? And if they did…someone must have said _something_ about it. The Old Palace is well-preserved…so I think our chances are good of finding something."

"But, you won't go alone Sadira," the princess said worriedly, leaning forward. Abu "oh-ohed" agreement.

Sadira glanced at her, shaking her head. "No; I was going to ask Genie to go with me."

"I'll go with you," Mozenrath bluntly said.

Everyone looked at him with wide eyes. Mozenrath felt irritation rise and waved their shock away.

"No," the sand witch objected as he opened his mouth, and then gestured when he tried to interrupt her, "I cleaned your wounds…_in and out_," she added, undoubtedly referring to his _mental state_, "you were tortured…nearly to death—" and Mozenrath gritted his teeth and the infernal _sympathy_ in her tone there, "you need to eat and rest."

He watched the street rat leap to his feet and his muscles tense as Mozenrath glared death at her. "_I am not_," he bit out, "an invalid…but I _am_ the _logical_ choice—"

The sand witch merely raised her brow again at him, un-intimidated…blast her.

Had she not been the one to heal him…he would not have hesitated to send her flying out the window to certain death…but he begrudgingly admitted to himself he owed her _something_ for what she did…so sparing her life seemed fair.

Not _pleasant_…but _fair_. Wretched magician's honor; why did the Old Mages have to make those accursed rules? It would have been so much more convenient had they only been…guidelines.

But he pressed on, "You are investigating a war that took place between the witches of the sand and the Lord of the Black Sand."

Sadira nodded, listening.

"Well, you represent one side of the war," Mozenrath told her, feeling himself calm somewhat in lieu of she was at least willing to hear him out (rare event that was, with _anyone_…other than Xerxes anyways), "and I, the other. It only makes sense." He waved at the street rat. "Aladdin's pet Genie wouldn't know what to look for. They had no role in the war…they never have a role in any…not with their domestic magic."

Yes; his tone was derogatory at the end, but…too bad. It was the fact of it; deal with it.

And of course, Genie decided that moment to come soaring into the room through the open balcony doors.

**A/N: **Well, here's the latest folks! More, of course, is coming! Thanks so very much to Foxieglove (get well soon!), hpjets25, FoxCort24, and and ASJ Johnson in particular for the support and kind words. And to everyone for reading! I hope you all continue to enjoy


	37. Chapter 37: Beholden Wizard

**A/N: **OK, so it's 1am, but here I am writing another chapter…anybody wanna guess why? LOL; that writer's bug's been biting ALL day! I just uploaded two chapters to my Star Wars fanfic…and now the 2nd chapter for this one…so, if you're pleased, plz leave a note for the bug saying thanks for keeping on me! Hahahahaha….but really. 3,655 views as of tonight? I continue to be thrilled…I continue to be humbled…. So, many thanks. But…now, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 37: Beholden Wizard _

"Al, you wouldn't believe how much decorating I got done!" Genie exclaimed proudly; he poofed into Martha Stewart, with paint roller and fistfuls of stir sticks in hand. "I've been soooo busy I've missed my own TV show!" he added in a Genie-ized version of her voice.

Mozenrath raised his brows at them and gestured. "I rest my case."

Jasmine only huffed at him and walked up to Genie. "That's fantastic, Genie," she told him, "We're all so grateful for all your hard work. It looks so beautiful."

"It is really outstanding Genie," Aladdin agreed, coming to stand next to his betrothed.

Iago rolled his eyes at the 'mush.' "Not nearly as beautiful as the piles of loot out there," he whispered to Abu; but, they were both still perched on Rajah….

The tiger heard and leaned back, snapping his massive jaws at Iago.

"Yah!" the parrot squealed, leaping into the air. No one noticed.

Well, except for Abu, who chuckled and patted Rajah's head in approval. The tiger leaned his head to one side so Abu could scratch his cheek instead. The monkey happily did so.

Rajah was always so nice to him, after all.

"Yeah, yeah, the flea-bags always stick together," Iago protested and flew over to sit on Genie's shoulder as the immortal regaled them with his immense list for the festivities.

He was clearly thrilled about his work, Mozenrath mused, not even remotely interested.

So, to find something interesting-and there she was, at the table where the Elixir Goblet sat, shining unabashedly for the entire world to see.

"How did you acquire that?" Mozenrath asked the sand witch, or rather, that massive…_bushy _mane of dark tawny hair, as she had her slim back to him.

There was certainly nothing wrong with her shape, the wizard noted as she replied, not turning, "Jasmine told me where the canyon was. So, Jib and I sand-ported there and found it."

"And the guardians?"

"They came out of the sand and met us."

"Did you have to fight them?"

"No."

Mozenrath blinked at that. "No?" he repeated.

Sadira shook her head as she pulled out some glass bottles filled with various herbs. "Are there any particular things you respond better to in healing draughts? Or things I should avoid adding?"

Mozenrath took a re-focusing breath and told her. She nodded in response but said no more.

_She doesn't talk much, _the wizard deduced, _well, that's hardly something to criticize. _

The princess, for example, just couldn't keep her mouth shut whenever she was around him. And, she was always _contradicting_ him; no matter what!

It grew old, very, very fast. The sand witch was a respite of a change.

Muscles he didn't even realize were tight, he felt relax.

"So…if you didn't duel against them," he pressed tactfully, "then…." He let the sentence hang.

The sand witch still didn't turn, fully engrossed in her task. "Oh, I just threatened them."

"You what?" he could not have heard that right. Not when the memory of how he and that street rat were forced to battle those giant slugs.

No; correction: _he_ fought them…the street rat just got in his way and made things more difficult—per usual.

"Yep; Jib translated for me, but I wanted to try reason first. So, I spelled it out for them…uh, no pun intended—"

Mozenrath smirked at her cough and slight blush—

"And well; they were reasonable in the end. I mean…there would really be no point to them _not_ giving me the Elixir. I am a sand witch after all; and it's one of their—_our_ relics."

Mozenrath caught the plural. "'Our'? You mean there are others of your kind?"

Her shoulders actually fell at that. "No," she said at length—Mozenrath thought regretfully—"it's just me; well, me and Jib."

"Your servant?"

"My assistant." She corrected firmly. _Lower classes are a touchy subject for her then_, the wizard realized, _so she is low born for certain._

As if the garb didn't give that away. So…why did the princess imply she was a royal?

And then epiphany struck: because she confessed to being the _only sand witch_ left…ergo, by default, she was the Inheritor. And according to their Order…she would be, technically, royal. The Heiress; and all of the rank, power, wealth, entitlements, and so forth pertaining thereto.

She clearly didn't put that much stock in it though, the wizard saw, watching her skillfully put together another elixir for him to drink.

But…the Elixir of Life was sitting right there…?

"You really are putting a great deal of effort into this," he casually remarked, "Do you think it necessary?"

She did turn to him then; she pretty enough, he decided, with her light coffee-colored skin and comely features…but she didn't have the grace and elegance that Princess Jasmine held in spades.

But…this sand witch didn't babble so…so, between the two of them there was the ideal woman.

A pity, that; she wasn't more beautiful-or high born for that matter.

"I'm going to spike this with the Elixir," was all she said.

"But, only that? Why?"

"Because I don't want to chance your body becoming dependent…or build an immunity to it; just in case you need it later on."

Well, that made sense. She had clearly planned this all out well in advance then.

Hmmm, not beautiful, but clever. Well, it was a sort of recompense.

Sadira watched her concoction change color in the glass jar she had poured the brewing potion into to cool. She would have him drink it when it became the right shade.

Iago flew over and perched on one of the glass bottles.

"Coming to inspect my work?" she dryly asked. Iago threw her a mischievous smirk.

"Yep; I'm gonna sit back and hope you messed this up somehow. I wanna see Mozenrath turn into an hour glass."

Sadira rolled her eyes. The wizard regarded the mouthy parrot with a knowing look.

"I take it you did your time as one then," he bluntly deduced. Iago lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Gah, know-it-all wizard." He grumbled.

"Big-mouth bird," Xerxes retorted. Iago glared at him and was instantly in the eel's face.

"Watch it worm-breath; I wasn't so bad when I was fighting those _vampires_ to save your boss here."

"What?!" Mozenrath couldn't hold in his disbelief.

Iago landed on the bedside and preened smugly. "Yeah; that's right, Mozen-looney; I fought those ghoul-ies you keep in your basement. Saved your neck, I guess that means you're in my debt, doesn't it?"

"Well," Mozenrath pondered aloud, his dark eyes suddenly icy and Iago wished he hadn't mouthed off to the insane wizard (Elixir or not, this guy _was_ crazy! Iago was certain); "I guess…it does."

Iago blinked. "Really?" he chanced. There had to be a catch, _someplace_ though.

"Indeed, and I won't have it said that I didn't repay," the wizard went on, his voice cultured with formality, "it would cause a considerable scandal to my reputation."

"Oh," Iago put in, one eye narrowed; c'mon, where's that catch, it's hiding, but there….

"So, in return for saving my life…what if I extended yours?"

"Extended? As in…made me immortal?" Iago gaped in disbelief. Wow; Desdane must have _really_ messed this guy up in the head for him to talk like this!

And who would Iago be to not capitalize!? Treasure came in more than one form, after all.

"Yes, since my life will go on, it seems only fair that I ensure that yours goes on too," the wizard said with an elegant gesture. "Does that sound agreeable to you?"

"You'd really do that? Really?" Nagging doubts lingered in the parrot's mind; this was Mozenrath, after all.

"Well, if you don't want to accept…."

"Oh, n-no! I accept! I accept!" Iago waved his wings emphatically, "I wanna be immortal."

Another majestic wave. "Then, when this is over, I'll use the Stone or Mord'a'dun to ensure you live forever. Will that make us even?"

"Oh, yep; that'll do it." Iago rubbed his wings together gleefully; who knew? Saving this insane wizard would prove so…profitable after all!?

This was soooo his day; piles of loot outside, a magician who was going to make him immortal inside. Finally, life was unfolding his way.

At the table nearby, Sadira only shook her head as at the conversation she just overheard as the potion shifted into the right color.

All right; it was set.

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**A/N: **OK; that's it for now, enjoy! So…what do you all think? Mozenrath offering to make Iago immortal? How's that gonna pan out!? Wait and see! Till next time


	38. Chapter 38: Realizations & Reflections

**A/N: **Well folks, we're now approaching the 4,000 mark: 3,757 readers to date. It still blows my mind…but I continue to love that you guys are reading, and hopefully enjoying…and special thanks to you who've reviewed (thanks to pozagee for the latest review!). It really does mean a lot.

So, we've left Iago and Mozenrath in quite an unexpected situation; let's see how it all pans out! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 38: Realizations & Reflections _

Sadira turned slowly, the glass in hand with a deep violet potion in hand. Mozenrath didn't notice; his eyes cunningly fixed on the bird to which he was…'indebted.'

Iago was eating it up; going on and on about how he'd have all eternity to discover all of the greatest treasures…the palace's he would erect and so forth.

Sadira shook her head again; poor Iago, so easily taken in.

It was time to burst his bubble.

She cleared her throat softly. Iago didn't snap out of his wide-eyed planning, but the wizard turned to her, clearly very entertained by his latest handiwork.

Even wearing that diabolical smirk he was…Sadira could only call it _lethally_ handsome.

Yep, those wards had taken more out her than she'd first realized; she was certain of it now.

"Ok," she said, handing him the potion to which he nodded his thanks, "you've had your fun—"

"Not all of it," he softly quipped in reply, "not yet; the _best_ part is still coming."

"You mean," Sadira, with mock casualness put in as he sipped the potion, "Iago's face when you tell him exactly _how_ the Stone grants immortality?"

Mozenrath emptied the glass, swallowed and favored her with another insidious smirk. "It'll be worth staying for," he smugly prompted.

Sadira groaned in annoyance. "I'm going to mess up the next potion on purpose if you keep this up."

Mozenrath only snickered; clearly not bothered.

"Hey, what do you think Sadira?" Iago suddenly cut in. "Should I make my winter palace in the Legendary Kingdom of Sal-ámud or in—"

"Iago, I think you need to _ask_ Mozenrath what other name the Stone of Mord'a'dun goes by."

"Why? What difference does that make?" Iago asked, but Sadira could see suspicion returning –_rightly_—to the bird's gold eyes.

He folded his scarlet wings and glowered at Mozenrath. "Ok, spill wizard-face; what's the fine writing that you're not telling me?"

Mozenrath shrugged in a completely unruffled way; for some reason, Sadira found it unnerving. "It's really of no consequence," he drawled, acting slightly put out by it all, "you never asked, so I assumed you weren't interested. You seemed so very _pleased_ by the prospect after all." His tone was clipped with amusement.

Sadira watched the light go off in Iago's face. "You only made that offer to string me along!"

A non-committal wave. "I hardly had to; you did most of it yourself." His tone was slick with satisfaction; Sadira watched him calculating the best moment to drop the _full truth_ on Iago.

Ok; she had had enough. "Iago, the Stone of Mord'a'dun is also known as the _Mamlock Stone_. It's what Desdane used to turn all the citizens of his kingdom into the undead." She picked up a pillow on the bed and whacked Mozenrath on the back of the head with it.

"Ow!"

Mozenrath glared pure death at her and leapt to his feet—impressively spry for someone half-dead, Sadira thought—and was about to…do _something_, Sadira wasn't really sure what; when Iago was instantly in the wizard's face.

"Oh, no! Not gonna happen! I'm not gonna be one of your stinking mamlocks! No way!"

Mozenrath grabbed the parrot by the neck and Iago, unsurprisingly, shut up.

"It's a pity, really," he deadpanned, "you would be greatly _improved_ as a mamlock."

"And..ghhhh…why…is…that?" Iago sputtered.

"Mamlocks mute," Xerxes supplied, "no talk…_ever_." Xerxes swooped around Iago and faced his master. "Xerxes like idea; bird no speak…and be useful, always…_for once_."

"H…gh…hey!"

A burst of rose energy attacked Mozenrath's hand that grasped Iago, biting into it.

He yelled and released the parrot, who hovered in the air, coughing.

Mozenrath spun on Sadira, whose lifted hand was just losing its rosy glow. "You little…"

Sadira only leveled him a flat, unimpressed glower. "Are you done now?"

"The bird had it coming," he gritted out, "no one _dares_ imply that I'm in their debt…_ever_."

"Uh-huh," Sadira flatly rebuked, "then I'll make certain that while you're here no one else will…will that solve things?" Her annoyance was plain by the hands on the hips and dark frown.

Mozenrath blinked at that. "But…what about _you_?" his voice was thick with suspicion.

Sadira couldn't hold back the snort. "What!? What _about_ me?"

"Well…"

"You think I helped you for _payment_?" Sadira couldn't keep the indignation out of her voice. Her body tensed as ire burned through her flesh. "You, you _arrogant_…ugh! You're just like _every other_ snobby, high-born wizard out there," she stomped her feet and waved at him dismissively; then clenched her hands into fists, "if I did help you, it was for _them_—" and she pointed at Al and the others, stomping again…who were all _watching_, the princess holding back her tiger who looked all too eager to pounce on Mozenrath; crouched down with teeth bared. Xerxes gulped.

"—_my friends_, because they asked me to; it had nothing to do with _you_." Sadira ground out, her face flushed with rage. "If I ever did want anything from _you_; it'd be that you'd at least try to be bearable until this is over. _Nothing else_."

And with that, she stormed for the door. Jasmine released Rajah and intercepted her.

"Sadira," she soothed, grabbing her shoulders. Sadira rounded on her, eyes ablaze.

"Let go of me Jasmine; I should cool off…before I kill somebody."

Iago landed on her shoulder. "Then kill somebody," he hinted, "you'll feel better."

She glowered at him.

"I meant kill somebody else!"

Genie and Aladdin looked ready to murder, from what Mozenrath saw in their expressions; the animals tense and ready for a fight. But, that wasn't surprising.

What was surprising was how Xerxes hovered uneasily beside him…looking worriedly at the sand witch.

But, his worry clearly wasn't for his master, but for the low born _girl_. Mozenrath held in the fury; now wasn't the time.

While Jasmine quietly urged Sadira to stay, Aladdin wasted no time in closing the distance between himself and Mozenrath.

"Mozenrath, apologize to Sadira, right now."

Mozenrath had heard that tone thousands of times from Aladdin in battle…_but was he serious!?_

He folded his arms, his ivory face patronizing. "And how are you going to make me?" he sarcastically challenged.

Genie poofed beside the street rat instantly. "Ohhhh, I'm sure we can think of a few things," he promised threateningly…medieval torture devices poofed into the room, surrounding them.

"Genie," Aladdin began, "this isn't—"

"Oh, please," Mozenrath dramatically cut in, "I don't see why you're all so upset in any case. Making the infernal bird mute would be the best thing to ever happen to him; and as for the sand witch," he waved at her, "it was a perfectly logical assumption on my part—"

Sadira and Jasmine stopped talking and glared daggers at him. Mozenrath pretended to not notice.

"—After all; if anyone would benefit from indebting someone of _my level_ to them…it would be-" and he waved again, taking in her ragged clothes, bare feet and brass ornaments in her hair—not gold…but _brass_.

This time it was Jasmine who headed towards him; death in her eyes. "All right, that's it—"

Aladdin broke away to stop her.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to keep the new décor," Iago tempted them, gesturing to the rack, the bed of nails and so on, "after all…you might find you like them."

Mozenrath snapped his fingers and they all vanished in blue fire.

Everyone stopped. Mozenrath smirked conceitedly. "Is there a problem?" he innocently questioned, "Was I not supposed to be able to do that yet?"

"Uh," Iago softly admitted, "actually…you weren't."

"I thought not," he casually replied, "so, where does that leave us?"

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Cassim took in the monolithic structure that was Agrabah's Royal Palace as they came to the main gates. No guards patrolling even spared them a second glance; assuming—wrongly—that they had been thoroughly inspected long before now.

Oh; how easy it had been, Cassim reflected. The Oracle was so tantalizingly close.

Sahid turned expectantly to him; Cassim didn't let his gaze leave the white spires of the palace.

"While they're all munching caviar, create a small disturbance," he ordered, "I'll sneak up from behind."

Sahid nodded; the thieves in the baskets chuckled, feeling the rush of anticipation.

"We're gonna rob 'em blind!" they all whispered in glee.

Once through the ornate Main Gate, they headed for the palace's blue double doors as if they owned the place.

Well; it was close, Cassim thought wryly, soon enough, they'd 'own' most of what was _in_ the place.

But all he cared about was feeling the Oracle in his hand.

And soon, very soon; he would.

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Aladdin tried to keep his mind focused on the war that was undoubtedly approaching with Desdane.

He had lost to the sand witches; granted, it was more of a draw…but now that the sorcerer was back, Aladdin had no doubts that he had every intention of picking up where he had left off.

But, instead of an Empire of Sand Witches, they had one and while she had grown exponentially in her magic over the last two years, one sand witch was still no match for Lord Desdane.

Which was why, like it or not (and Al didn't like it _at all_), they needed Mozenrath: sharp-tongued, sarcastic, agonistic and all the rest that he was…they would lose without him.

And the worst part was, the wizard _definitely_ knew that.

After Mozenrath had, in so many words, said he was 'done' (at least for the moment), they had all seated themselves again to cool off and get back on track.

But, in the next moment, he was insisting again that he, not Genie go with "the sand witch" as he kept calling her, down to the old vizier's rooms.

Sadira would not hear of it, threatening to impale him once they were alone. Mozenrath only smirked and assured her he would allow her the first blow—as was proper apparently—but said he would grant only that much.

And they had to block Sadira's lunging at him a second later.

Eventually, Aladdin and Jasmine had used every last drop of diplomatic skill the sultan had ever taught them to smooth things over to where they could at least talk everything out with only small glowers and veiled threats occasionally thrown; not the volcanic eruption of an argument it had blown up into before.

Aladdin sighed and glanced over at Jasmine. She was weathering this latest storm far better than he, he thought. But, no doubt her years of royal education in dealing with various 'persons of import,' was helping a great deal now.

And Mozenrath considered himself a person of immensely great import indeed.

Aladdin held back in the sigh; frankly, he hadn't been caught off guard by what had happened. So many…angry? Hateful? Vengeful? Well, all sorts of _bad feelings_ existed between Mozenrath and pretty much everyone else in the room…and once Mozenrath revealed _why_ he seemed so incredibly distrustful of Sadira, it only made sense that he had needled her into a fight.

Aladdin berated himself. He ought to have seen that one coming. He knew that Mozenrath was suspicious and distrustful by nature…and considering what they now knew about his life under Desdane, it made much more sense. He was apprehensive towards everyone in general…but much more so around _another magic worker_.

Was _that _why he was always after Genie? Was it not only to get his magic…but to scratch him off of his "paranoia list"? Did he just assume that every other magician was just out to get him?

Aladdin wondered.

But, at least the wizard was seated now; Xerxes wrapped like a stole around his shoulders…and he was conversing _civilly_. It was a huge step forward.

Aladdin mulled over the change. Mozenrath was always unreasonable, reckless to suicidal impulses even, when his anger was in full force; but, when he was calm…he was actually brilliantly clever. And very well-spoken-

-when he was _calm_. And thankfully; for the time being, he was.

Aladdin would enjoy it while it lasted.

But, the thought lingered in his mind, if Mozenrath assumed Sadira had helped him to get something out of him in return…then what did he consider their motives to be? Aladdin needed no convincing that Mozenrath wouldn't believe that they had saved him on Xerxes's pleading alone.

Aladdin put the thought aside for now; he would deal with that obstacle when the time came.

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**A/N: **Ah, Moze continues to be such a fun to write! Did you all like his baiting Iago? I thought making it too obvious at first would not be quite so fun…ergo the split chapters. Well; hope y'all enjoyed. Leave a review! Till next time.


	39. Chapter 39: Presentable

**A/N: **3,827 readers to date; I continue in my baffled amazement. Thanks, thanks, thanks! So, very much for reading… It's now 3am, and I'm wiped out. Time for you to read, and me to ZZZZ…. Plz leave a review! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 39: Presentable _

This was one of the things Jasmine hated about being a princess.

She always landed, somehow, in the middle of two sides wanting to kill each other.

It always became her task to make them play nice.

She was only 10 the first time she had found herself in this position…but then one of the sides didn't consist of Mozenrath, acting as…_himself_: belittling, caustic, superior and overall—

Well, overall…_himself_.

Poor Xerxes, Jasmine caught the little eel chance an apologetic glance her way. It still astonished her, how much…_nicer_ he had become towards them since they had rescued his master.

As if he felt _genuinely_ grateful for it. Jasmine found herself not totally incapable of believing such an idea.

Mozenrath would not let go the subject of going to the old vizier's rooms with Sadira. Jasmine would have found herself livid with his obstinacy; except, he had a solid point.

He had used his magic, ergo he could help Sadira magically; he was a lord the Land of the Black Sand and Mozenrath knew Desdane's magic better than any other—except for the old wizard himself-and so could likely spot clues regarding the War more adeptly than Genie.

And, if what Xerxes had told them was true; Mozenrath would suffer far more than any of them should they lose to Desdane.

So, he had a great deal of incentive to cooperate.

Which made his lashing out at them and Sadira all the stranger; but, Jasmine couldn't get over how…unsurprised Aladdin had seemed by Mozenrath's behavior. Had he anticipated it?

Jasmine deduced that he probably had; which, really, was a relief.

Perhaps Aladdin could get through to the hard-headed wizard then, should she fail.

Sadira plopped herself down on a fine azure chair near the sofa Al and Jaz occupied, side by side. "Whatever else, I'm the one that has to go down. I'm sure it's your old vizier's magic that's trying to block me. If I can just get closer to the source, I'm sure I'll be able to overwhelm it."

"Who was your old vizier?" Mozenrath asked, apparently intrigued, "I had never heard a sorcerer of consequence once dwelt in these parts."

"His name was Jafar," Jasmine replied with a sigh, "he—"

"Jafar!?" Mozenrath sputtered in disbelief—sparing a glance at Iago, "that impertinent old fool who fancied himself a sorcerer? Oh please," he added with a wave, "no _real _magician would consider Jafar anything resembling a wizard. He had never done _anything_ worth chronicling."

Jasmine, Aladdin and the others all traded meaningful looks. Jasmine thought briefly of genie being forced to lift the palace and place it on a nearby mountaintop; she thought of Jafar turning into a giant snake and every other terrible thing he had done leading up to his destruction.

Mozenrath caught the play of emotion across her face. His dark eyes narrowed in realization. "Unless, princess, I am mistaken," he offered, without rancor—amazingly.

"I'm afraid you are," Aladdin grimly put in…and then proceeded to fill Mozenrath in on how he had been arrested by Jafar on false charges (_Oh, he needed those?_ Mozenrath had asked, but no more), tricked by Jafar into going into the Cave of Wonders—

At the mention of the mystical Cave, Jasmine caught the way the wizard's body language and expression shifted; ah, now Aladdin had his attention for real.

Interestingly, Mozenrath picked apart this sequence in the tale. He asked Aladdin to describe the various items he recalled seeing whilst in the Cave. Jasmine wanted to warn Aladdin that answering was probably not a good idea…but Al had told her himself of the Cave's total destruction—and how Carpet had saved he and Abu.

So…what incentive did Mozenrath have for asking? Her question was answered once Aladdin got to the part about the Cave obliterating itself.

The spark of interest…of _longing_, in Mozenrath's face went out.

"Oh," was all he said to the revelation that the Cave was no more.

Jasmine didn't miss the sympathetic expression Xerxes gave his master then; clearly understanding better than she.

What had he been hoping for?

"You're quite certain nothing in the Cave survived?" Mozenrath softly pressed after a moment's silence.

Aladdin soberly nodded. "We just barely survived. I saw the inside of that Cave, Mozenrath; it was reduced to ash and rubble—nothing else."

"I see," was the toneless reply.

"Anyways," Jasmine interceded, sensing the need for change of subject, "I think that we should have breakfast before Sadira heads downstairs." She rose smoothly. "I'm going to find the servants—"

"Bring lots food!" Xerxes happily said, gesturing wide with his fins.

Mozenrath gave him a mock reproving look. "You're only supposed to eat me out of house and home, Xerxes."

Jasmine only laughed a little and promised she would. She turned to walk away but her peripherals showed the surprise that crossed Mozenrath's face.

She turned back around. "Is something wrong?"

"You're going to have your servants bring food here? To this room?"

"Yes…." Jasmine left it open. "Is that…?"

"Well," Mozenrath replied, his tone unsure, clearly certain Jasmine already knew what he was about to say, "that's hardly—" he gestured for her to fill in the blank; Jasmine might have been offended, but he seemed genuinely at a loss.

"Proper?" Jasmine only shrugged. "Well, I thought you'd feel more comfortable eating here than with all of us and Xerxes in the dining halls; it's extremely…_formal_…and—" she didn't want to rekindle his temper and so left off.

She watched the pieces come together in his dark, penetrating eyes. "Oh, of course," he glanced down at his plain navy robe and bandaged limbs. "I'm rather…unsuitable at present."

Jasmine decided to play the better part of valor and spare his feelings. "Well, yes, but really I hoped you'd share with us what you know about Desdane and the War…and I don't think the visiting dignitaries want to hear the—"

"Gruesome details?"

Jasmine grimly nodded.

Mozenrath's expression told her full well he knew she was trying to salve his feelings…and that he was both caught off guard by it…but grateful too.

"Very well, princess, as you like," he conceded evenly.

Jasmine nodded and headed for the door. It clanked with her departure.

Outside, they heard the guards asking if she really was Jasmine, and not Mozenrath in disguise.

"Yes," Mozenrath supplied with a snicker and dramatic gesture, "because you know I would simply _confess_ that."

Xerxes laughed. "Stupid guards."

Iago raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I gotta agree with Eel-boy on that one," he dryly admitted.

Aladdin gave him a look.

"What! He's right!"

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**A/N: **Ok, so a shorter chapter, but I'm tired. Thanks for reading! Leave a review plz


	40. Chapter 40: A Mission to Understand

**A/N: **OK, so first a BIIIIIIGGGG thx to all of my recent reviewers! I got a real pick-me-up from all your encouraging words and support! So, thx (especially wanna holla out to: ASJ Johnson—for the summary assist!—hpets25, putscheschka, FoxCort24, & lizathon)! Also, we're over the 4 thou mark of readers: 4,423 to date! Wow! We were at 3800 or so last chapter…so we've had a lot of visitors lately…which is EPIC! Anyhow, I didn't get any questions really to my last chapter…so Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 40: A Mission to Understand_

After Jasmine left the room, Genie trailing after, saying he could use his magic to help bring things up; Aladdin refrained from reminding Genie he could just poof the breakfast right there…but he suspected his friend needed some space from Mozenrath.

_One too many near-Crystal-of-Ix experiences could do that to a guy_, he figured.

Iago decided rather than stay in the awkward interim, he was going to bask in the wedding gifts outside; Abu rolled his eyes and muttered to Al he was going with…to 'supervise.'

Translation: ensure Iago didn't steal anything…which of course Iago over heard and immediately denied…though he confessed to thinking he deserved a "fee" for "guarding Al and Jaz's gifts from _real_ thieves."

Al just sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Mozenrath took that moment to remind Aladdin that as a mamlock, "the bird" would be bound to _real_ obedience-for all time.

That merited a huge stink eye from Iago and a mutter under his breath about "leaving him in there next time," before he took off out the window, Abu leaping after him to keep up.

Rajah laid down where Jasmine had left him to stop Sadira. His brilliant eyes never left their 'visitor.'

It was then that Al realized Sadira was gone.

Weird; Aladdin didn't even remember seeing her go. His eyes flitted across the room. Yep; their sand witch friend was nowhere to be seen.

Xerxes though, was hovering in the doorway; Aladdin wondered for a moment what he was looking at, until he heard the almost inaudible "ooooooww's" coming from the eel-his gaze fixed skyward.

"We don't see many sunrises in my kingdom," Mozenrath indifferently supplied, making no attempt to rise and take in the luscious splash of colors across the sky.

"That's too bad," was all Aladdin could think to say. And it was; living in his hovel, however dirty and unsafe…the view had always been spectacular. He and Abu had enjoyed many a sunup and sundown their years there.

Aladdin rose and paced the room a bit; now that he was essentially alone with Mozenrath, this was the perfect opportunity to come back to the "motives question," that he was sure still laid unresolved between them. He turned to Mozenrath to broach the subject, when the wizard cut in:

"Why?" the wizard suddenly asked. Al only furrowed his brow; caught off guard.

"Why save me?" Mozenrath asked; his gaze hard, piercing. "After everything?"

Well; apparently Mozenrath had had the same thought.

Al repressed a sigh; no matter how openly he spoke the truth…Mozenrath probably wouldn't believe him anyways. It was hardly a secret the wizard had no concept of selflessness, of giving, of…_anything good_ for that matter. And he didn't trust…ever.

All he knew was greed, ambition, selfishness…and while Aladdin had _no_ pretensions of being perfect…he knew deep down, he and Mozenrath were in many ways, opposite incarnations of each other. What Mozenrath said to him at Dagger Rock had stuck itself, like a knife, in his memories:

"_And who's going to stop me, Aladdin? You? You, who gave up being a sultan to play the _hero_?"_

Mozenrath considered him a fool for making that decision; Aladdin often wondered if Mozenrath had ever, in his life, done something altruistic for another.

He doubted it…_until_ Xerxes told him of the wizard as a child, saving his life from Desdane—

And as punishment, was viciously beaten afterwards.

So…_what had changed?_

It registered that Mozenrath was waiting for an answer.

"You were being tortured—" and Mozenrath gave him a look that said: _And?_

Aladdin exhaled in frustration; but, clung to the hope this wouldn't be for nothing.

This was a chance to finally get through to Mozenrath…to _show_ the wizard the path he had chosen was _wrong_. Words in the past hadn't prevailed…but Mozenrath hadn't ever _asked _Aladdin's motives before, only _mocked _them.

So…there had to be a reason, other than _suspicion_, to why he was asking now.

At least Aladdin hoped so. But, even still, Al resolved he would try to understand Mozenrath better; he'd make it a mission to do so. They'd be working together; it was inevitable.

So, he met the wizard's dark, penetrating eyes and reinforced his point. "Look, it's no secret that we have our differences—"

Mozenrath only gave him a flat stare this time.

"But, torture is wrong, pure and simple—"

"Yes, those two words do describe you…_disgustingly_ well," Mozenrath cut in dryly, looking away.

Aladdin bit his tongue to keep the harsh words down. His temper subsided after a moment. "You asked me."

Mozenrath met his gaze with a measuring look. "I did." He paused for a long moment. "But…you have to admit, you _were_ tempted to let the 'evil wizard'…'get his.'" His voice was oily with knowing.

Aladdin's face sobered. "I was. I won't deny it."

Mozenrath's triumphant smirk said: _I thought as much. _"So, why did you change your mind?"

Aladdin sat casually back on the sofa; seeing the opening for sure now. "You can thank Xerxes for that."

Mozenrath made a point of _not_ looking at his servant, who Al caught in his peripherals make a discreet exit from the room through the balcony door. Good; it was better that the eel wasn't here, Al intuited. But, the wizard's face was suddenly threatening—which was impressive…considering.

"And…_what_ did he tell you?" his voice was a poisonous whisper.

Aladdin indifferently shrugged. "Only that you weren't always…the way you are now."

Mozenrath's glare was sharp enough to cut diamond. Al shrugged again.

"He said you saved his life…from Desdane. And that Desdane punished you for it." Al watched the other's face very carefully. He could have sworn something…veiled the wizard's dark eyes, but…_to conceal what_?

"I see," Mozenrath said at length, his voice empty of any emotion.

The tiniest flicker of hope lit in Aladdin. So…Mozenrath didn't deny it then…which meant it really did happen. Xerxes hadn't made it up to curry sympathy for his master. And…Al couldn't help but think that Mozenrath was…uneasy that his enemies knew that side of him existed.

Because it still _did_ exist; otherwise, Mozenrath would have immediately made some sarcastic declaration about that "being a long time ago," and "it was a foolish act," and all of that.

But…there was none of that; Aladdin held back any show of his guesses being correct, not wanting Mozenrath to shut down even more than he already had.

He couldn't help but wonder though, if the wizard boy hadn't picked up on his insights already; one glance at his biting gaze said: Yes, he had.

"Is there anything else?" the magician bluntly inquired.

Aladdin sighed in resignation. It was better, really, to just put everything out in the open; how else would they get the boy wizard to trust them? To work with them?

"Why? Why save Xerxes? You knew how Desdane would react; what he'd…do."

Mozenrath actually flinched at that; and looked away. He suddenly rose, as if needing to move; but didn't take a step.

"That's not your concern," he snapped.

"You asked if there was anything else."

Dark eyes bore into him. "I didn't mean _that_."

"Why him? All of those other magic creatures were already dead—"

He didn't expect to see Mozenrath _shiver_—

"So, why not Xerxes too? Wasn't he just one more?" Al pressed; he was on the cusp of _something_.

Mozenrath spun on him then, his dark eyes blazing in fury. Aladdin felt invisible claws seize him; he forced himself to not react.

"Xerxes _begged_," Mozenrath bit out, "all of the others fought, lashed out…," he made a barely audible choking noise, "…but Xerxes was _young_; not fully grown yet…he was little more than an _infant _by our standards…and he was _scared_. He didn't know what death was, what pain or suffering were; and he was _terrified_—" his voice dropped to a cutting whisper. "He saw what Desdane did to the others first, watched them be drained to _nothing_…and he was paralyzed by fear by the time Desdane got to him. He _begged_ and _wept_ for mercy…," he swallowed, "I couldn't just do _nothing_."

_Because you were young too; because you knew what Xerxes was feeling…because you looked at Xerxes and saw _yourself_, _Aladdin realized. Mozenrath perceived Al's epiphany. His glower deepened; his wet eyes shone with maddened fury.

The invisible claws wrapped around Aladdin's neck; Mozenrath smirked at seeing his eyes bulge in panic. He straightened, the shadows, the memories suddenly gone from his eyes. He was the sarcastic sorcerer again. "Does _that_ answer your question?" he lightly asked.

Aladdin nodded. Mozenrath released him; the implied threat obviously understood. Al gasped and rubbed his throat.

"So, why not save them all?" Al couldn't help but ask, "You like animals."

Oops; he hadn't meant to say that last part.

Mozenrath's gaze flickered back to rage again; but a second later it was gone. "You _do_ love to live dangerously, street rat," he flatly drawled. "It's a miracle that you're still alive…dumb luck or not."

He was attacking Al's pride; Aladdin had no doubt of that. But, he was still _talking_; so, he played along. It might lead to something; at least he could hope.

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**A/N: **I'm breaking this section into two chapters; because both will have a different theme. So, enjoy! Plz review! Till next time


	41. Chapter 41: Divergent Destinies

**A/N: **Wow! We're at 4,901 readers! I know it's redundant to keep saying this…but I'm SOOO floored! I actually got another bug from work; so I called in today…and rather than be stuck in bed all day being sick, I'm gonna focus on this. You can thank my bro's coworker for the Emergen-C she gave me—it didn't taste as bad as she said it would even! LOL; anyhow, I'm bedridden, but my fingers still work. Anyhow, two questions were thrown my way: 1-do we ever get to know what Moze thought was in the Cave? Yes; you will, it's in an upcoming chapter. 2: do we get to see what the witches left in the Old Palace…and yes to that one too…so onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 41: Divergent Destinies _

"It's true," Aladdin mildly said, and watched Mozenrath seethe in response, "it's why you didn't follow Desdane's way of getting power."

"Oh? Didn't I?" his tone was slick with condescension.

"No," Aladdin pressed, leaning forward, "you went after genies, not animals. You saw how it was done; more than once I'm sure—"

Mozenrath impaled him with a dark glower—

"But you never copied it; you even went so far as to wear that gauntlet, when you clearly knew of another way. The question is: why?"

Mozenrath's suddenly calm, though patronizing look wasn't comforting. "I _doubt_ Xerxes stopped at telling you only about how I saved him—"

Aladdin shook his head; he wasn't going to hide that. It'd be pointless—and counterproductive.

"—so, I'm sure you've been made aware of _how_ I grew up under Desdane?" his tone was chilling in its indifference. It was too casual, to light; as though they were discussing the price of pomegranates. Aladdin made sure to keep his posture non-threatening.

Aladdin nodded; there was no need for details, they both knew that.

Mozenrath gestured. "So…why would you _ever_ think," his tone gradually hardened, "that I would ever what to _be like him_?"

His dark eyes were fearsome enough to terrify the dead—which was ironic considering the mamlocks were halfway there, Aladdin thought. "But, genie was different? How?"

Mozenrath raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though asking: '_Why me?_' "Because you made an incredibly stupid mistake in freeing him; and I was the one stuck with fixing that problem." His tone made it clear he thought the answer evident—at least to an _intelligent_ person.

Al started at that. "Stupid? How could _freeing genie_ be stupid? Or a problem? That's ridiculous!"

"Noooo, you're freeing him was ridiculous," Mozenrath bit out, "do you have any idea how reckless, how…renegade-like freed genies can be? Genies aren't meant to be freed…ever. They're domestic, like a servant; letting a genie loose with no further _clear purpose_ is like cutting an indentured servant loose with endless money, time and resources. But…they never can figure out what to _do_ with it…so they become reckless with their freedom- a loose cannon." Another gesture, this one of finality. "It never ends well; the last recorded free genie decided the world would benefit if he made the entire world's climate like that of the tropics," he sighed, "except…the global weather patterns were thrown off for centuries. It caused catastrophic storms the globally: famines…pestilences, plagues…_pandemics_. Do you have any concept of how many people and animals died? Because of _one_ freed genie!?"

Al was glad he was sitting down; his stomach was tied in so many knots from the shock, he doubted very much he'd be able to eat that breakfast coming. He could barely breathe.

He'd never heard such a tale; but was it true? Or was Mozenrath lying to justify his actions? One look at the Mozenrath's glassy, enraged eyes…no, he wasn't lying.

But…why did Genie never tell him about this? Out of fear that Al wouldn't trust him?

Mozenrath decided that Aladdin wasn't going to answer. "Millions, street rat," he snapped, his voice searing with anger, "perhaps billions…from _one…freed…genie_." He straightened; his fury having compelled him to lean nearer to the other to drive his point home. "So…you can see now why I was less than enthusiastic to hear that some uneducated vagrant boy had released another genie on the unsuspecting world. You see, most people out there," he gestured to the open balcony, "don't recall what happened longer ago than their own childhood," he flinched, as though thinking of something else—his lost memories? Al thought—"But wizards, we keep annals of centuries, millennia past; we _don't_ forget…because it's imperative that someone recalls the happenings of before…so they _don't come to pass again_."

Aladdin had been leaning his elbows against his knees; he sat back, also catching what wasn't said. "You'll never convince me it was for that reason alone; you wanted genie's magic, danger or not."

Mozenrath leveled him another flat stare. "I'm glad you figured that much out on your own, at least," he drawled. "But, had you kept him bound to the lamp…as you ought to have, none of this would have happened. So, you can thank yourself for that. Had I not come across your pet genie, another magician would have. And they would have acted no differently than me. Free genies are a menace; it's just that simple—so even _you_ should understand it then."

"Not all magicians would have," Aladdin calmly protested.

"Oh? Name _one_ that wouldn't have."

"Sadira."

Mozenrath blinked, incredulous. "That sand witch is not a true example," he sputtered, "Of course she wouldn't oppose your pet genie; for one, she lacks the skill and second—"

"Now wait a minute," Aladdin cut in, getting up and raising a hand, "Sadira is very powerful; she's traveled a long way and been taught by some great people. Just because she wears plain clothes to work in doesn't mean she's less than you. It just means she keeps her good clothes for when she's _not_ working. There is a difference you know." His voice was indignant.

Mozenrath stopped at that; Aladdin could actually see in his expression his reassessing Sadira, wondering if he was too presumptuous in his first conclusions.

"So, your sand witch—"

Al huffed. "She's not _my_ sand witch—"

Mozenrath smirked. "Regardless, your sand witch then, is not wholly self-taught?"

Oh; so that makes a difference in the magical world, like being taught at home versus a university? Under a scholar? "No, she started out with self-teaching, and then traveled abroad."

Something hostile…unknotted in Mozenrath. "So; she's established then; acknowledged in the magical world." It was a question.

"Of course she is," Aladdin deliberately made his tone say: _that should be obvious_. It would be a huge step forward if he could persuade Mozenrath to accept Sadira as a fellow practitioner; as an equal, not simply an amateur witch sniffing for personal gain.

Mozenrath seemed to consider that. Aladdin was caught off guard when the wizard walked around him, his expression pondering. He eventually made his way back to the bed and regally sat back down. His countenance continued to be…mulling; but Aladdin wasn't entirely sure of what.

Was he reconsidering Aladdin, as he did Sadira? Was he reevaluating his first impressions?

Aladdin couldn't be positive. But, he decided to not let Mozenrath feel rushed; regardless of anything else, the sorcerer was healing, even with his shows of power and improved pallor, Aladdin had no doubts he still had a long trek to full recovery ahead of him.

Mozenrath seemed to pick up on Aladdin's decision to let him take his time; Al watched in quiet amazement as the wizard seemed to un-tense a little more. It was the first, half-way civil conversation they had ever truly had…a bizarre experience for both of them.

"You know, street rat," Mozenrath suddenly said, jarring Al from his thoughts, "I've never come across anyone more skilled than you in the art of terrible decision-making."

Well; it was half-way civil at least. But, Al had long-ago gotten used to Mozenrath's caustic one-liners; so he let himself be amused rather than offended.

"Oh?" was all he let himself say; curious to see where Mozenrath took this.

The wizard seemed caught off guard by Al's lack of reaction. He stood, as if miffed by that—too bad, Al thought—and paced around the bed and back again. "Yes," he bluntly retorted, "how is it, that a boy like you; low-born, uneducated, living in a filthy hovel—"

Al had heard all of those barbs too often to be affected anymore. So, he just waited to see if another opening would present itself.

"—and so forth; but, here you are: living the dream life, but still making _stupid_ decisions; one after another…and you don't get yourself killed." Mozenrath threw his arms up in bafflement. "It's truly unfathomable; how it is you're still alive, considering the reckless, suicidal heroics you indulge in…_daily_. You should've died a thousand times over by now at least."

Aladdin actually had the audacity to chuckle in reply. "What can I say? You're the one who called me lucky."

Mozenrath's deadpan expression only made Aladdin grin. "You're too lucky to even call it that."

Al only shrugged, barely able to believe he had gotten Mozenrath to talk this much—sarcasm or not. "Hey; I could say the same about you, you know." Ah; Mozenrath jolted in shock, just as he'd hoped.

Dark eyes narrowed threateningly. "Be careful street rat…comparing me to you is not especially wise."

"You mean it's a stupid decision?"

He laughed at the death glare he received in response; then lifted a hand when Mozenrath opened his mouth to…probably one-liner him to death.

"Would you have ignored an opening that perfect?" Al questioned flatly, his face knowing.

Dark eyes narrowed more.

"I thought not," the other quipped in triumph.

"You'll pay for that…later," Mozenrath promised, but Al caught a gleam of…not totally disapproving in the wizard's expression.

Al leaned back again. "You can pay me back after proving me wrong."

Another smirk. "That won't take long…or much."

Al waved in dismissal. "If you count how many risks I've taken against how many you've taken, I'm sure you beat me out…so why are the chances you take ok and mine not?"

Mozenrath reseated himself. "You take _stupid_ risks; that's the difference. And I doubt you've stopped, even once, to ask yourself, why your life has turned out the way it has."

Aladdin only waited. The more the wizard talked the more he opened up…and the more he opened up…the more Aladdin was seeing that Mozenrath had many much more to him than the power-hungry maniacal wizard.

Mozenrath sighed; deciding he'd have to explain it to him—what a shock. "I've never taken a foolish risk—"

"Oh? Khartoum's book; that wasn't foolish—"

Mozenrath's glower returned. Al ignored it. "And the gauntlet? It ate your arm—"

He didn't expect Mozenrath to flinch, his gaze un-focusing as though he were suddenly far away.

Mozenrath couldn't stop himself. The blasted street rat mentioning the gauntlet…and it all came back in a sandstorm of memories:

It was never truly his—curse Desdane for tricking him; that wretched abomination devoured his arm…and there was no way to ever restore it—

Just one more part of him that Desdane had taken away; Mozenrath would personally cast him into the darkest, deepest, most vile dimension of all for it—once he was mended and strong again.

But, he craved, longed, ached for the moment he'd have the accursed sorcerer at his mercy, to make him suffer, scream, languish as Desdane had forced him to; he'd make the old man's death so agonizingly slow…he'd be an old man himself before he'd let Desdane experience the mercy of death.

He suddenly realized that someone was shaking him…and saying his name over and over.

He blinked repeatedly, feeling the street rat's hands gripping his upper arms.

He glanced around; they were still in the same room, then it came back to him: they had been talking, somewhat decently to one another…until his musings had pulled him away.

"Are you all right?" the street rat asked, and Mozenrath was about to snark at him…until he saw genuine concern in the boy's face as he put a hand to Mozenrath's brow, probably checking for fever.

Actually, once Mozenrath considered it, he did feel warmer. It didn't register right away.

"Your fever is coming back," Aladdin said, his voice actually worried; his bronzed forehead was pinched with anxiety, "I'm going to go find Sadira."

"Don't," Mozenrath rebuked, brushing his hand away, "it's nothing, an aberration. Nothing more. It'll pass."

"I'm not interested in taking chances—"

Mozenrath lifted a brow at that.

"Not in _this_ case anyways," Al amended, rising, and looking the tiger's way. He probably shouldn't leave Mozenrath alone though. "Rajah, go find Sadira, would you?"

The tiger let out a throaty growl, probably to say "okay," and got up. Mozenrath watched in surprise as the tiger lifted the latch to open the door and let himself out. The guards spun around, probably assuming Mozenrath was trying to make a break for it…only to jump back when they saw it was the princess's pet instead.

"Do you think they'll ask _the tiger_ if it's really me in disguise?" Mozenrath snarked, chuckling at the guards' nervous expressions as one re-shut the door and the others recoiled from the big cat.

Aladdin chuckled. "You know, for some reason, I don't think they will."

Mozenrath was hard pressed to tell who was more surprised that they actually shared a moment of mutual humor: the street rat; or him.

One glance at the street rat told him though, the too-lucky boy was thinking the same.

May his magic save him; he was actually able to glean the street rat's thoughts, rare and seldom though they be.

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**A/N: **Well, hope you liked; plz review…and enjoy!


	42. Chapter 42: Fragments of Memory

**A/N: **Ugh, don't feel good! But, writing helps, happy to say! Onward! I expect more reviews for giving you multiple chapters! :P Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 42: Fragments of Memory _

As sense of the cat left his sphere of awareness, Mozenrath decided it was best to get any 'grim realities' dealt with sooner rather than later.

There had to be a tangible reason why the street rat saved him; and why he now persisted, however convincingly, in his feigned acts of concern for Mozenrath's well-being.

Not even the street rat was so idiotic to want his _arch-nemesis_ well again; impending war or not. Surely the boy's pathetic belief in the "greater good," was enough to convince him they would prevail against Desdane. No; Aladdin surely had some ulterior motive; best to uncover it now.

He leaned his back against the stone wall, still blissfully cool from the night and appraised his foe. "So, street rat," he smoothly began, "what does a vagrant such as you charge for saving your enemy?"

He smirked at the boy's slack-jawed expression. It was so terribly persuasive; the street rat seemed _truly_ dumbfounded that Mozenrath shifted so quickly back to business from the humorous interlude they shared only a few seconds ago.

Yes; it was entertaining, yes, the guards were _insipidly_ amusing per usual; but, it surely Aladdin was only trying to 'soften him up,' for the moment where he tries to cajole a price from him.

And…the street rat continued to look appalled. It was getting harder to believe this was all some sort of ruse.

The street rat was simply too…_simple_ to be this clever an actor.

Mozenrath's stomach did a couple of somersaults as realization set in: _no_, it hadn't been a guise; the former thief _was_ seriously trying to show him kindness.

Mozenrath let his gaze sweep over the boy; no, no head injuries that he could see. No dilated pupils, no…nothing that would induce this sort of _madness_ in a person.

And…the street rat finally closes his mouth…but says nothing. Blast it anyways; he's waiting for Mozenrath to speak again. Clarify perhaps. The wizard sighed in frustration.

This was so much easier when they just tried to kill each other. At least then, Mozenrath knew what to do and what to expect.

This…what to even call it, a…_truce_? It was too complicated. Battles were more straightforward. Messier, but more streamlined by far.

"You're taking the hero-antics a bit far, don't you think? Even for you?"

"Funny, I didn't hear you complaining when we were sneaking you out of that dungeon."

Mozenrath couldn't fully repress the shudder. Aladdin, curse him, had the gall to look…_apologetic_.

He put his head down, as if embarrassed for _not thinking_. "Uh, sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Mozenrath leveled a steely glare at him when the other looked up. And of course, the street rat wasn't smart enough to leave well enough alone.

"Look, regardless of the past, this is _now_," Aladdin said emphatically, lifting a hand as though he was holding the very present in it, "and you're the one always calling me 'street rat.' Well, if being a street rat has taught me anything; it's that you can't hold onto the past. The bread you ate yesterday won't keep you full today; dodging the guards and the dungeons yesterday doesn't mean you'll do it again today—"

"Don't you mean the bread you 'stole' yesterday?"

He was rewarded by Aladdin's short, annoyed exhale.

"Yes," he was shocked to hear the boy admit flatly, "I stole; I stole pretty much everything I ever ate, drank or needed. It wasn't pretty and I'm _not_ proud of it; but, it still happened and there's no un-doing it."

A thought occurred to Mozenrath. "Is that why you persist in your escapades now? To make up for the past?"

Aladdin blinked as though that thought had never occurred to him. "I…," he paused, turning it over in his mind, "maybe. I never really…I just wanted to help people. Do something worthwhile with my life. Make a difference."

Mozenrath mulled over what a revolting existence street rat life must have been; he couldn't blame Aladdin really, for wanting to chase after other things. He'd _been in_ the hovel, after all.

And…the street rat was right: it hadn't been pretty.

"And your friends, your family?"

Aladdin blinked.

"Do they approve of your…_adventures_?"

"My friends do," Aladdin said at length and then shrugged, "well, except Iago; he'd only approve if it was a treasure hunt." Mozenrath watched as a memory flitted across the street rat's face. "Well, even then not really," he added with a chuckle.

Ah; there it was: the omission. "And…?" Mozenrath prompted.

Aladdin's cinnamon eyes rose from staring at the floor.

"You only said your friends," the wizard reminded him.

"I…don't have any family. I thought you knew that." His voice was oddly toneless. Strange.

"No, we never really talked about it before," Mozenrath answered, "but no one; truly? No siblings, no aunts, grandparents?"

Aladdin shook his head. "For a long time it was just me and Abu."

Mozenrath held in the shiver; ugh, the flea-ridden monkey. He was small enough to be confused for a rodent.

Aladdin cocked his head to one side as Mozenrath mused. "What about you?"

The wizard looked at him.

"How about your family? Did you ever track them down…after Desdane?"

Mozenrath cringed as reality pierced into him all over, like blades. "No," was all he said. The street rat didn't need to know that Desdane had ripped his memories to shreds, had imprisoned them in relics and cast them off to…who knew where. Aladdin didn't need to know that what few memories Mozenrath had successfully concealed from his master were so deeply repressed, that after years of effort, he couldn't will them back to the surface of his mind.

All in all, his past was simply…gone.

Mozenrath grimaced; well, not all of it. There were a handful of things he _did_ recall…but wished he _couldn't_.

Things Desdane ensured he would _never_ forget about his family. Mozenrath had long since lost count of how many times he'd pronounced the most terrible of all curses on the man he loathed so very much—

And on Desdane as well.

But, epiphany struck, propelling Mozenrath back to reality. "Is that what you want as payment? My help in locating any living family you might have?"

The 'hero' boy blinked, astonished. "You mean, you'd be willing to do that?" Suspicion glossed his eyes. "Really?"

Mozenrath snickered at his doubt—rightly placed. And then he actually thought about it. It'd be humorous to know end if the street rat were indebted to him in some way.

That might actually make it worthwhile. Aladdin's eyes narrowed at the shrewd look that was no doubt on his face.

"I don't know," he offered, surprising himself by being honest, "I might. It depends."

"On what?" the suspicion grew more on his face…no doubt thinking about the bird and Mozenrath's "offer" of rewarding him.

"How inclined I feel to do anything once this is all over."

Aladdin gave him an: _I thought as much_ look. "No thanks; if I want magical help in tracking down my family—if any's even out there; I'll ask Genie. It is a more '_domestic_' thing, after all."

Mozenrath shrugged un-committedly. "If you like; but the genie's magic will never compare to mine."

Aladdin's expression was too deadpan to be impressed. "Uh huh. When this is over, I'm wagering Genie would be more up to the task than you. You're mending; he's not."

The barb dug into Mozenrath. _No one_ pricked at his pride. No one. Street rats _least _of all.

"Is that so?" the wizard's tone was the poisonous whisper again. He waved a hand.

Blue fire blossomed between them, a few inches from the marble floor. It swelled into a pool that opened in the middle to a glassy-iridescent surface; navy fire moved along the perimeter, making a soft, scratching-like sound. Aladdin gazed down at it, then up at Mozenrath.

"You're not serious," the street rat said.

Mozenrath leaned forward, dark eyes ablaze. "Well, street rat, if you do have living family, this fire mirror will show them to us."

Aladdin shook his head. "No, send it away; you're not ready for this yet."

The worst part was he seemed sincere. Mozenrath gulped down the lump of rage that knotted his throat. "I'll decide what I'm ready for, street rat," he bit out, and then sent his gaze down to the shimmering mirror, "show to us any of the street rat's living relations," he commanded.

The iridescent portion of the mirror made a soft, tinkling sound as voices seemed to emanate from it. Places and people swirled in the mirror, fluid, breeze-like; for several moments, the wizard and ex-thief watched the mirror search.

Finally, after several long moments, the 'glass' portion shuddered and the layers of it stilled, clearing.

Showing Agrabah.

The wizard hid his own amazement as Aladdin's jaw dropped.

"I…have family…here!?" he gasped in disbelief.

"Apparently so," Mozenrath murmured, still coming to terms with the fact his magic _found_ someone. Well, it seems the street rat's endless luck continues.

Dream life, indeed.

"Who?" Aladdin pressed, leaning closer, eyes bright with excitement.

"The mirror will show that in a moment," the wizard answered him.

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**A/N: **So, who's the mirror going to show them? Cassim? Or Aladdin's brother? Or…someone entirely new? Place your guess and see! LOL; till next time! Plz review!


	43. Chapter 43: Iridescent Glimpse

**A/N: **I just wanna take a minute to say many thanks to everyone who's been reading this far into the story. I mean, here we are at chapter 43, and I'm looking at the reader stats and seeing more and more countries adding themselves to the list. It's, it's really something, that's all I can say. I wanna say thanks especially to Finland and Saudi Arabia, coming 2nd and 3rd place in readers (USA being #1), and Italy and Canada tying for 4th. I hadn't realized till now that the Aladdin franchise was so loved in Finland and Italy…but we're always learning, right? But, in any case, it's awesome. And I was really surprised that tying Australia for 5th is Bosnia and Herzegovina; which is epic! Anyhow; thanks again all for reading, I love that ppl all the world over are enjoying this journey with me; it's really, super humbling. But really great too; so, ok, I'm done, LOL. Anyways, we all wanna know who's the mirror gonna show…so Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 43: Iridescent Glimpse_

Aladdin could still scarcely believe that Mozenrath was willing to _help_ him find any family that might still be out there; even as he watched the mirror clear more and the images become crisper…he waited with baited breath.

"Who do you think it is?" the wizard asked.

Aladdin gulped; barely able to gather his flaying thoughts. "I…I'm not sure."

"Well, who are the possibilities?" the wizard questioned, sounding impatient, either with Al or the mirror—or both.

"It…it might be my father…."

Mozenrath's head riveted up at him, eyes piercing.

"I never saw him die," Al quietly elaborated, "my…my mother I was with till the end—"

Something that might have been sympathy crossed Mozenrath's face, like a shadow.

"But…not my father…he just…disappeared. My brother too."

Brows raised. "You have a brother?"

A nod. "He vanished when I was a little kid. Xerxes thinks he might have been kidnapped."

"_Xerxes_ thinks?!"

Another nod. "I told him about it while you were asleep. It was his theory."

"On _what_ grounds?"

Aladdin fidgeted. It made him feel raw- exposed in some way, talking about his family…which is why he didn't really ever broach the subject…_ever_, except with his closest friends.

Mozenrath was different. But…he wasn't needling, wasn't insulting….

He seemed genuinely confused by the turn of events.

Good; because Al found himself in the same boat.

"When my brother…vanished…it was in the dead of night. There was an earthquake, and…I saw a man appear…he was floating in the air. His eyes were glowing…red. He took my brother and they both disappeared."

He wasn't ready to tell Mozenrath yet it was a vision. But, the dark and earthquake were real enough. It was too uncomfortable to say more…at this point at least.

Dark eyes narrowed. "You saw a man take him? A man who walked on air?"

Aladdin nodded; only now recollecting that _Mozenrath _could walk on thin air. "Is that something common to wizards? Walking on the air?"

The sorcerer shrugged. "Common enough." He stilled, noticing something in the mirror.

Aladdin followed his gaze. The picture now was perfectly clear…it was the _palace_.

"Impossible," Aladdin breathed. "They…no one could be here. I'd know."

"Would you?" Mozenrath said dubiously, "What if it's a distant cousin or uncle in service to the sultan? Would you _absolutely_ know it?"

Al squirmed. "I suppose not."

"Exactly," was the clipped reply. A penetrating gaze focused again on the mirror. "Show us the relation; who is it?"

The iridescent portion swirled again. Briefly, a picture of a group of men came into view…mingling with the wedding guests; Al leaned in closer, obviously impatient to see who it was. Mozenrath watched…curious…until he caught a glimpse of a tall man in a long, cobalt-blue cloak; his face was covered, but the wizard felt a chill of recollection crawl up his spine.

Suddenly sharp pain pierced his head and he heard a faint, 'popping' sound. His vision swam.

The next thing he knew was the sensation of falling, and arms closing in around him.

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Al didn't like how pale Mozenrath was getting.

The first time he had to catch the wizard as he seemed to teeter between conscious and unconscious, his pallor had greyed a few moments beforehand; now even as he registered the disbelief that family might even now be in the palace…among the wedding guests it seemed—

The color (what little of it there was) was fleeing the sorcerer's already ivory face.

And just as a man in a dark royal blue cloak stepped to the fore of the mirror, Mozenrath winced, as though pained…and pitched forward.

Aladdin leapt to intercept him.

As Mozenrath crumbled in Aladdin's arms, his brow grazed the boy's cheek—

He was scorching. The fever had returned in force.

So much for it being an aberration.

When blood began to leak from his nose, Aladdin grabbed a cloth nearby, happy at least when the wizard coughed and shuddered; he was awake then.

Aladdin leaned him forward and pressed the cloth to his face. He felt the wizard struggle, so he quickly told him what happened and to not move till the bleeding stopped.

For several moments, the sat in silence, with Aladdin wishing Genie or Sadira would come. But, could he call for them? He wasn't sure if Mozenrath were fully lucid right now; could he take the chance…or would Mozenrath, in a fevered delirium, interpret his call as an attack?

Aladdin decided to not risk it, at least for now. A glint of gold out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

He turned. The Elixir of Life; Sadira had left it there, on the table.

But…how much to give him? And then he recalled when Mozenrath was trapped in his body and explaining how to separate them:

"_With a taste of this magic healing potion…."_

That should be more than enough to stop this then, Aladdin decided, and reached for the goblet.

Mozenrath shuddered, and made a choking sound as Aladdin's hand grasped the cool gold of the goblet and pulled it to them. His face was turning greyer.

Aladdin had maneuvered the cloth into his right hand as he used the other to retrieve the Elixir; putting it aside to let Mozenrath sip the Elixir proved tricky, as he still had his arm around the wizard, but he was eventually successful. Mozenrath didn't look at him; probably too focused on simply breathing.

He choked again. Aladdin pressed the goblet to his lips.

"It's the Elixir of Life," he gently said, "take a drink." The fever was rising fast enough that Al could feel it through his robe now.

Mozenrath took a small sip of the clear Elixir as Aladdin tipped the goblet a bit. Aladdin glanced at the discarded cloth as he set the golden chalice on the floor.

It was drenched in scarlet. The cloth itself had been white. Al sighed; wishing he'd never let Mozenrath make that mirror now.

His insides wrenched; family, there was living relations of his _here_, in the palace.

And without _Mozenrath_, he'd've never have known it.

He pressed his free hand to the wizard's brow. Thank goodness; the fever was gone.

That Elixir was truly a miracle worker.

The wizard shook a little, obviously clearing his head. Aladdin watched him glance around the chamber. Al waited for him to regain his bearings; trying to not think of just how bizarre his life had truly become…going from _fighting_ the wizard of the black sand to rescuing him, treating him and holding him as he collected himself.

After a few moments, Mozenrath straightened. "You can let go of me now, street rat."

His tone was blunt, even if his voice was scratchy and…less than intimidating.

Aladdin said nothing as he released the wizard and rose, stretching.

"You're welcome," he quipped, non-chalant, as he bent and retrieved the Elixir, placing it back in its prior spot.

"I believe you're the one supposed to say that," was the sharp return, "you got what you wanted after all; some poor, unsuspecting kin of yours is here, in the palace."

Al sobered. He turned, taking in Mozenrath's ashen face and the darkened shadows under his eyes. "I know," he said, grave, "and I am grateful, really; but you shouldn't have done it. You're not healed enough."

Mozenrath merely sighed in annoyance and looked away. Al whisked the bloodied cloth off the floor and tossed it in a nearby pan, making sure Mozenrath saw it; the wizard pretended he didn't—but Al caught the flicker of shock in his eyes and knew that he had seen.

"Why exert your magic? I didn't ask; and even if I had…." Al shrugged helplessly, showing he wasn't understanding.

Mozenrath aimed a flat stare his way. "I didn't expect my magic to be…less mended than I realized. It will pass; the Elixir is powerful, my magic will repair itself sooner rather than later."

Al had been on the streets more than long enough to recognize hedging when he heard it; it was the most common ploy of shopkeepers: embellishing their wares to rake in more profit.

Mozenrath must have perceived Aladdin wasn't buying it. He sighed again, apparently giving up…on something.

"Why do that for me?" Al couldn't help but ask, "You're not indebted to me in any way; and even if you were…it's not like you to feel indebted to anyone. Iago's proof enough of that."

Mozenrath didn't react right away, but eventually he turned to Aladdin, his face…haunted in some way; as though something _monstrous_ was inside the wizard, looking at Aladdin through Mozenrath's eyes. Al felt a coldness creep through him; for a moment he wondered just what _exactly_ Desdane did to make him this way.

"_Ruler?"_ Al had snarked when they had first met. _"Yeah, right. You're barely older than me." _

What was Mozenrath? No older than 19 at the most, Al was certain. Heaven only knew what Xerxes watched Desdane do to his master.

Xerxes.

"There is something I want from you," Al heard himself blurt out.

That seemed to rattle Mozenrath back to himself. "Shocking," he drawled, "what?"

"You're just going to ask? Just like that?"

"You said it: I'm not indebted to you; but I am curious what a street rat would ask of a sorcerer."

Al wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, actually happy to hear Mozenrath snarking at him again. It meant he was feeling better.

Sad; that that was the gauge Al could use to tell—sad, but fitting anyways.

"I want you to not be angry at Xerxes."

Mozenrath's shoulders dropped, stupefied. "I couldn't have heard that right."

Al nodded. "I want you to swear, on whatever it is you care about most in life, that you'll not be angry at Xerxes for coming to us; or for anything he might have said. He risked a lot to come here, to persuade us to help you…but he did it…for you, because he's loyal. I don't want you to punish him for loyalty. It's wrong."

Al had never seen Mozenrath more scrutinizing. His dark eyes were practically dissecting Al, and the boy could see the gears turning in his mind, measuring, weighing, and calculating.

Apparently, the wizard decided at length Al was in earnest. "You're an even bigger fool than I ever could have imagined," was all he said; his tone empty.

"But will you do it?" Al insisted, folding his arms.

The wizard straightened, stray bleariness leaving his dark eyes. "Of course," he replied, his tone imperious, but noble too, "Xerxes has always been loyal. But…out of anything you could have asked…you ask this."

It was a question. Al sighed. "You saved him; and admit it, out of everyone in this world, Xerxes is the only one who's ever stood by you, no matter what, right?"

Dark eyes narrowed; the wizard nodded, waiting.

Al shrugged. "I just don't think you should be angry then. He did it for you; no other reason."

"And, you ask for something so easy?"

Al snickered knowingly and Mozenrath gave him a wary look, obviously expecting the trap to spring now. "It's not easy; not for you."

The wizard waited again.

"It means you have to forgive," Aladdin stated, gesturing, "and I've never heard of you ever forgiving anyone. So…this will be a new thing for you, I think."

A flicker of surprise flashed across the wizard's face; clearly he hadn't considered that part yet. He only offered another measuring look to the other.

"I begin to wonder if I'll ever totally understand you, street rat," he finally said.

Al only shrugged again, and rubbed the back of his neck; walked back to his seat. "I don't think that makes a difference; we're just too different, I think. I doubt I'll ever totally understand you either." He sat and gestured at Mozenrath's bandaged arm. "I'll never understand that, for instance."

"_That,_ as you put it, was for power," was the sharp rebuke.

"See, that's what I mean." Another gesture, this one of being lost. "It's ok to take risks for power, then, but not to help people."

Mozenrath leaned against the wall again, smirking triumphantly. "You know, Aladdin," he drawled, his eyes clear and impaling again, "that's the first sensible thing I've ever heard you say…. It's such a pity you didn't mean it."

Al just rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure what was sadder: the fact that he set that up so smoothly for the sorcerer…or that Mozenrath's one-liners had ceased to faze him.

He doubted it made a difference.

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**A/N: **OK, Asj Johnson, you got your chapter 43…though I was working on it before you asked…so you can't say your 'cutie face' won me out…LOL. But, it was still funny ;) Anyhow, y'all have a good one. I'm happy to say I'm feeling a little better…but am tired. Hope you're all still enjoying the story, send any ?'s my way, and plz review! Good night!


	44. Chapter 44: Rampant

**A/N: **Well folks, we're sitting at 5,077 views! Totally awesome! Many thanks to those who reviewed: I'm VERY happy you liked the chapters of Aladdin & Mozenrath trying to find common ground and better understand each other. I will clarify that the 'popping' noise and Moze almost passing out was entirely because of the magical overexertion; there was some question of that; what the underlying cause was. Other than that, the man in blue that they both saw just before was in fact Cassim; I keep getting lots of inquiries of whether or not Cassim will be able to ask the Oracle…you'll just have to stay tuned! LOL; anyhow…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 44: Rampant _

Jasmine and the others decided to return at that moment.

"We're back," Jasmine announced lightly as the door swung open and she entered, Rajah in tow with Iago and Abu. Genie came in last, carrying a ridiculous amount of food in both hands and atop his head, all piled on top of each other…in ways that clearly defied gravity.

Mozenrath thought back to the sandwich Genie had balanced on his head when he had first met the street rat and his…'entourage,' and sighed.

Some things truly never changed.

He gingerly tested his magic…and found it mostly recovered from his…last usage.

_Xerxes; come. They've brought breakfast, _he called.

Xerxes didn't reply, though he could have. But, he never did; no matter where he was in the world, he would always hear his master's voice; it was a natural part of their binding.

But, he felt the eel's presence draw near; albeit he sensed his servant's nervousness too.

"I talked to my father," the princess went on, coming to stand beside her vagrant and taking his arm. She smiled up at him before turning to Mozenrath. "My father agrees you'd be the better choice to go with Sadira."

Mozenrath kept his face carefully neutral in face of sultan's shocking amount of insight. Hmmm, perhaps he underestimated the old man in times past after all.

"And your sand witch is all right with this?" he evenly questioned, noticing how calm (and unsurprised) the genie and animals looked at this revelation.

Ah; so that's why they were so long in getting back…it was this.

Undoubtedly, there was much heated debate over it downstairs; such a pity, then that he missed the show.

He held in the snicker at what the spectacle must have looked like until the little sultan pronounced his decision and made it final.

"Sadira…wasn't there," the princess eventually confessed, fidgeting just a tiny fraction, "she's outside, checking her wards. Rajah came into the throne room, I think he was looking for her…." She looked at him and the street rat in turn, letting the sentence hang.

"It was nothing," Mozenrath offered before Aladdin could speak yet _more honesty_, and ruin everything, "a minor episode; lasting only a moment." He gestured indifferently, and snuck a quick gesture to dissolve the telling cloth stained with his blood. He felt a pinch of pain in his stomach, his body telling him to not push again; but it was enough.

The betraying cloth was gone; and no one had seen.

The princess glanced one more time between him and her betrothed before saying: "Oh, well, if that was all," she looked over to Genie, who was now entertaining the animals by juggling their food, "would you mind setting the table, Genie?"

"Oh, sure thing Jaz," he said, suspending the breakfast in mid-juggle to salute her. One 'poof' later, and a large, rectangular table appeared between the door and balcony archway, and Genie, now in the form of Mrs. Cleaver, ruffled apron and all, was showing the animals the 'only proper way' to fold napkins.

The food was all _immaculately_ set out. Mozenrath twisted his lips at the sight of it.

How quaint: _domestic_ magic, in its element.

Xerxes flew in at that moment, took in the heavily laden table and 'oooohhh-ed' gleefully, before coming to rest on his master's shoulder.

Mozenrath gestured to the table with his chin. "You'll have to be presentable enough for both of us, Xerxes," he said matter of factly and reached up to pet his head.

Xerxes straightened, lifting his head dutifully. "Xerxes presentable!"

The princess giggled at that. "Xerxes, did you see Sadira anywhere?"

"Sand witch coming," he told the group, "outside, checking magic lamps."

'_Magic lamps'? Oh; of course: the wards_, Mozenrath deduced, feeling his servant's tense body relax as he scratched his head. Xerxes by now surely realized no anger was going to be directed his way.

But, still, wards made in lamp form? A tricky feat, that; perhaps the street rat was correct (it was bound to happen _someday_; Mozenrath supposed), he had judged the bushy-headed magician too hastily.

Well, hadn't this morning turned out to be full of surprises? Mozenrath could already feel the headache coming on; wondering what else lie in wait for him today.

He could _hardly_ wait…. He rubbed his brow as the door's latch 'clicked,' then the large door swung open.

"Oh, Sadira, there you are," he heard the princess say as he felt Xerxes leave his shoulder—no doubt to inspect the breakfast offerings—and picked up the light footfalls of the princess as she made her way to the other magician.

He looked up just to see the princess whisper something to the sand witch; and then the fluffy-headed girl glanced his way with narrowed eyes.

Ah; so perhaps the princess intuited his 'minor episode' was in fact, more than that.

Blast her for being clever.

The sand witch's dark sapphire eyes re-met the princess's and she nodded soberly, apparently agreeing to something. But, Mozenrath couldn't help but think that it wasn't about the upcoming search into the Old Palace, the sand witch was taking the princess's words too…_gravely_.

That…was puzzling.

And then, _better and better_, the street rat joined the discussion, telling the sand witch something as well in hushed tones. Mozenrath rose as the magician's brow creased in concern. He distinctly heard the street rat say 'elixir' and 'didn't ask him to.'

Ah; the bit with the fire mirror then…and no doubt what came after. He held back a sigh.

Blast that street rat and his rampant disease of _honesty_…there were times when he blabbed worse than that wretched parrot.

And as if on cue:

"Hey! Worm breath! Those are _my_ grapes!"

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**A/N: **Yep, slightly shorter chapter this time…but you guys got long chapters last time, and I really wanted to get something uploaded today. I figured Iago left us at a good point. So, things are transitioning! Yay! The quest into the Old Palace is coming! I'm really excited about that…are you? Anyhow, plz leave a review and any ?'s you might have. Till next time!


	45. Chapter 45: Morning's Light

**A/N: **OK, so 5,110 readers! WOW! I never thought this story would reach 4 thou much less 5! It's epic; I'm totally numb with shock, it's just THAT amazing to me….

Phew; anyways, so I'm getting a pretty steady stream of questions on whether or not Cassim will be able to ask the Oracle about his family, so it's time to poll: does that matter to you, my readers? Yes or no? Please let me know; I want feedback on this.

Second poll: I'm also getting many ?'s about whether or not Sadira and Mozenrath will eventually become a couple. Again, is that important to you guys? I am curious to know what you want to see at this point. So, input is VERY welcome Plz leave it with your review! Thx! Onward….!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 45: Morning's Light_

Everyone spun around to see Iago and Xerxes playing tug-a-war with a clump of purple grapes.

"Mine! Mine!" Iago yelled over and over.

Xerxes hissed and snapped at him, but quickly lost patience, flicking him aside with a whack from his tail. Iago went catapulting across the room and into a large vase near the balcony.

"Eeewwww! Someone's been spitting in _this_ vase too!"

Jasmine gave Aladdin a reproving look.

"I swear Jaz! It wasn't me!"

"Probably your charming guards," Mozenrath flatly said to them as he walked up to Xerxes and held out a hand expectantly. Xerxes sheepishly dropped the grapes into them as Abu fished Iago out of the vase.

"Aghhhh, yugk!" the monkey said, sticking out his tongue as he pulled a wet Iago from the striped, gold-painted vase.

"Blah, that's it, we need new housekeepers or something!" Iago complained. Genie flew up to him, and pointed a blue finger. One 'poof' later, Iago was clean and groomed.

The parrot shook. "Phew! Thanks Genie!"

"No prob, bird-man."

Mozenrath placed the grapes back into the oval fruit bowl. "Manners, Xerxes," was all he said in reproof. Xerxes nodded.

"Sorry, master; but parrot took. I see them first." His tone was sullen.

"Regardless, manners."

"Xerxes be good."

Meanwhile, Mozenrath had observed in his peripherals the sand witch returning to the table where the Elixir of Life majestically sat, glistening in the early morning light. He caught the clanking of bottles and glass as she prepared some other concoction of hers—probably a supplementary potion for his _most recent dose_ of the Elixir.

He smelled the fragrance of exotic perfume as the princess drew near to him. He turned to give her his full attention.

"My father did have a couple conditions though, in exchange for your going with Sadira."

Mozenrath couldn't keep the amused twitch of his lips at bay. _Of course he did; of all the impertinence._ "And those would be?" he asked silkily.

"That you eat something first, and take another healing potion—"

"Which your sand magician is no doubt preparing this moment—"

"-And that when you return, you rest; no changing your mind after, no complaining, no tricks."

"I'll leave those things to your bird—" and he watched in satisfaction as the parrot threw him a surprisingly impressive glower, "those seem to be his areas of expertise after all."

"I heard that!" the parrot snarked. Mozenrath only snickered in reply.

The princess only rolled her eyes at them and then leveled a serious look at Mozenrath. "Well? Will you agree?"

Xerxes took that moment to fly over and wrap around Mozenrath's shoulders. "Sounds fair," he plainly said to his master.

Mozenrath sighed. "I suppose Xerxes is correct," he said, sounding only mildly put out.

The princess's posture relaxed, probably in relief. He caught the thankful little smile she tried to sneak to his servant…but failed. "Good. Sadira, you're going to eat with us, right?"

"I don't know Jasmine, Iago might be worried about the soup if he found out _I_ made it."

And of course, the parrot at that moment was about to take a spoonful of soup; he froze and dropped the golden spoon. "You…you made this!?" he gasped in horror. "But, I already took a bite of it!"

"Oh? Really?" Mozenrath put in, and turned to Sadira, "what did you put in it? Will he turn into something…preferably something _mute_?"

"Hey! Jaz I say we put the crazy wizard _back_ where we found him. I warned you about bringing strays home; especially on your wedding day."

A padlock appeared around Iago's beak. The weight of it knocked him face first onto the table.

"Mooophmmppphhhhghghghghgghh!" he yelled in angst, struggling to pull the huge lock off.

"Mozenrath!" the princess rebuked, spinning on him, "Take that off him right now!"

The wizard only lazily shrugged. "I can't," he said as Xerxes rolled around on his shoulders, laughing in his raspy voice, "I didn't do it."

Everyone turned to Genie. He only shrugged. "Don't look at me guys…even though I was thinking about it—well, I was gonna use a _safe_; you know, with combination lock."

Sadira at that moment walked up to Mozenrath, balancing a full goblet made of copper in both hands. "Here, drink it while it's hot," she said, her eyes fixed on the cup.

"_Sadira_," Jasmine chided, hands on her hips.

"What can I say?" Sadira innocently said as Mozenrath took the goblet carefully and after a soft "thank you," sipped it, "I'm good at multi-tasking."

Mozenrath nearly choked on the liquid. He forced himself to swallow and then snickered. "Could you _not_ do that?" he asked with mock casualness.

Sadira actually _blushed_. "Ahem," she cleared her throat, "sorry." She flicked her wrist in Iago's direction and the padlock dissolved.

"Oh, the things I put up with to live in luxury," the bird complained.

"He would never have lasted, putting up with my circumstances," Mozenrath murmured to Sadira.

"What? Iago, having to live with Desdane?"

"No," Mozenrath corrected, "Desdane-having to live _with the bird."_

The both chuckled as they found open seats at the table with the others.

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**A/N: **Ok, so here we are; truces are being called per se, hope you're all still liking! Plz leave a review, and don't forget about the polls above. Feedback/input is a MUST! LOL


	46. Chapter 46: A Dark Dawn

**A/N: **OK; so life is full of the unexpected. I mean, it's now at the point where I prepare myself for the shocker when I check the daily reading stats; today… 5,500!? Incredible! I'm SOOOO blown by ALL of the support for this fic that I'm…words have long since ceased to fail me…really. You are all SO epic for reading, following, reviewing and SUPPORTING this story! Thanks a Billion- billion- billion!

Quick note; I'm feeling better, happy to report. Another quick note: my knowledge of the foods, etc. of this era is skeletal, so if something historically is a bit off…plz just overlook it. I'm a plot-driven author and didn't want to take extra time to do IN DEPTH research on any details I was unsure about. Thx for understanding. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 46: A Dark Dawn _

Jasmine watched in relief as they all sat: Aladdin was on her left with Abu sitting on the table beside him; Iago lounged on an amethyst pillow to her left. Rajah sat on the floor between her and Iago; his azure eyes peeking over the table; fixed on Mozenrath, who sat on the other side of the table. Sadira parked herself across from Jasmine, to the wizard's left, Xerxes hovered to his right; Genie sat at the head of the table, apparently going to play server.

Xerxes wasted no time in retrieving the coveted cluster of grapes from the fruit bowl, which sat directly in front of Mozenrath. The wizard gave him a look, but said nothing. Iago threw the eel a thorough stink eye, before setting instead on a wing full of dates instead.

Genie had brought in enough food to feed an army; which Jasmine supposed would be just enough for them—plus Xerxes. He finished the grapes quickly and Genie passed him a towering plate of pancakes to try; the plate of flat breads smothered in sticky syrup was stacked easily a meter high.

"Ooooowwww," Xerxes said in awe, before flying up to the top and diving in.

Mozenrath just smirked and shook his head, saying: "That won't last him long," and helping himself to a pear.

Jasmine filled her own plate, whispering a 'thank you,' to Aladdin, who had poured her some pomegranate juice; she dreaded what had to come next.

Only…she couldn't see any way around it.

Genie though, seemed to be the only one oblivious to the dark turn their time together was about to take; he happily urged everyone to try the exotic foods he had conjured for them: waffles, pancakes, baked pheasant, turkey sausage, a variety of egg dishes, fruit 'jellies' to be smothered on toasted bread, even what he called a 'breakfast pizza.'

Jasmine repressed the giggle; he even had various hot cereals and many types of breads: bagels, pretzel buns, small cinnamon raisin loaves, and so on. Living in Agrabah, the region's cultural center, Jasmine had been exposed to a wide array of foods from the world over…still; she enjoyed watching Mozenrath scrutinize every item on the table, sampling a bit of this and that.

No; Desdane had not let him out of the Citadel in probably his entire life, Jasmine wondered how much he traveled once he had overthrown the other sorcerer.

Probably not very much, she intuited.

But, she couldn't bring herself to force the inevitable to happen just yet; so she let herself meld into the small talk moving back and forth across the table.

The shocking thing was Mozenrath was _asking_ Genie (not unkindly) about various items they found set before them. And, after Genie recovered from his initial shock of either being asked or the lack or rancor attached (or both), he of course, _had_ to indulge them all in every funny story tied to any item questioned about. And, being Genie, said tales came complete with 'poofing' special effects, including, but not limited to: Wild West gun fights and horse chases, the original Mardi Gras, getting sea sick on his first travel to America (with Columbus) and Genie's own personal hunt for the Loch Ness Monster—which turned out being a sixth cousin of Genie's four times removed.

Who knew?

Jasmine and the rest were very accustomed to Genie's 'party tricks,' but it surprised Jasmine how casually Mozenrath and Xerxes took it all. Xerxes seemed curious and entertained; Mozenrath seemed…absorbent. He took in every word Genie spoke; every detail of his magical 'commentary,' with limited _outward_ reaction, but the princess saw plainly how engrossed the wizard was behind his façade of mild apathy. Jasmine ate and mulled over why; until it hit her.

Genie had been _everywhere_; done everything humanly (and inhumanly) possible. He could move through times and eras like people could travel from one kingdom to another. Genie had friends and acquaintances in every kingdom of every part of history: past, present…and future.

And Mozenrath knew that; but being mortal, he lacked the power to move through space and time as easily as Genie could…ergo, he was _learning_.

Jasmine for a long moment was stuck on the irony of it all; every time the wizard had tried to capture Genie, just to take his magic…had he thought of was a vast reservoir of _knowledge_ their blue friend was?

She doubted it.

Meanwhile, Rajah had apparently decided that Mozenrath was going to stay on his best behavior and bee-lined immediately to Sadira. The sand witch had, over time, grown attached to Jasmine's tiger. She conjured treats and toys for the big cat as Genie finished his stories; Rajah was chasing an animated plush mouse the size of a hare around the room, batting it with his massive paws by the time breakfast had begun to wrap itself up.

Xerxes had eaten most of the items on the table, all the while praising Genie for his cooking skill.

"But, not as good as sand witch," the eel kept adding.

Sadira pursed her lips to keep from laughing at Genie's unsuccessful attempts to be indignant.

"Well, I can't _do_ sand magic, Wonder-worm; what do you want?"

"Sand witch make food next time," the eel quipped, swallowing the last of the bagels.

Mozenrath snickered at Genie's folded arms and pouting expression. "You asked him," the wizard said simply, taking another pear.

"Yeah? Well, Wonder-worm can do the dishes then," Genie replied with mock glumness, "or he can pay the bill."

"Don't leave a tip though, Xerxes," Mozenrath put in.

Xerxes laughed, sniffing out the extra cinnamon loaves.

Everyone sat back, Jasmine and Sadira sipping their favorite hot tea, sweetened with honey, when the princess decided that there was no need to put off what _had_ to be discussed anymore.

"Mozenrath," she prompted, and her face must have betrayed her reluctance, because the wizard turned to her, took in her countenance, and sighed in resignation.

"No," he said, holding up a hand at her imminent apology, "we _should_ get this over with."

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They returned to the sofas and chairs after Genie poofed away the table—there was no remaining food.

Xerxes wrapped up in a ball on Mozenrath's lap, smacking his lips contentedly. The wizard shook his head, and petted the eel's brow as the lithe creature dozed off.

Aladdin held Jasmine's hand as they made themselves comfortable on the long sofa across from the matching one Mozenrath sat in; Sadira beside him, with Rajah still playing with his mouse at her feet.

Genie hovered behind the sofa, near Jasmine as Abu sat on Al's lap and Iago perched on the gilt-rimmed back of the cobalt and gold-patterned couch.

"I suppose it would just be best to ask that you tell us everything you know about Desdane," Jasmine gently said, fidgeting just enough that Al felt it, though he didn't see it.

Mozenrath grimly nodded. "It would be," he emotionlessly agreed.

Al felt his stomach twist in sympathy as the wizard magisterially took a breath, no doubt to steady himself. He had to give the sorcerer credit; Mozenrath clung to his dignity with all the ferocity of a starved lion to its prey. Even after _everything_ he had endured of late, he still affected all of the elegance and regality of…well, of someone his station. Even at breakfast just now, his manners were just as refined as Jasmine's; and it had all been without thinking about it. Mozenrath had been too preoccupied with Genie's regalia of tales to _pay attention_ to his etiquette; it was just habit.

Aladdin wondered if he was a lord's son or the son of a wealthy merchant before Desdane took him; it seemed likely.

Aladdin watched a dark, _haunted_ look shadow the wizard's already onyx eyes as he opened his mouth to begin his tale.

Suddenly, it was almost impossible for Aladdin to remember that outside, the sun shone in all its brazen glory…because it was so _very_ dark in the room in which they all sat.

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**A/N: **Hey all, just wanna remind you to go onto YouTube and watch the Aladdin TV episodes so you can catch all the hidden references I have to them in this fic. For ex., a chapter or two ago Iago fell into the vase and complained that "someone spit in this one too." Well, in the episode "Vocal Hero," Iago falls into a vase and complains that someone spit in it. So, FYI. Anyhow, have a great night and plz review!


	47. Chapter 47: A Past Revealed

**A/N: **As of today, we're at 5,789. I'm not even gonna TRY to tell you how amazing that is to me. But, I'm getting lots of 'congrats's' from ppl over the # of readers this fic has gotten and I just wanna say: congrats to my READERS! **You're** the guys and gals making the numbers skyrocket; so THX and congrats to you! Also, thanks for NOT getting on my case about Genie's choices of breakfast items; yes, I did keep pork deliberately out of the menu…but other than that just wanted to make the chapter light and fun…cause this chapt. won't be. So, plz don't forget to leave ?'s and a review; MANY thanks to my faithful reviewers; I always look forward to your encouraging words! Anyhow; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 47: A Past Revealed _

What disturbed Aladdin the most was the _apologetic_ look Mozenrath offered them before answering Jasmine's request.

When your worst enemy whose favorite pastime is _gloating_ seems _remorseful_ for what he's about to unveil…well; suddenly that fantastic breakfast Genie served them soured in Al's stomach.

"What you must first understand about Desdane," the wizard began, his tone weary and somber, "is that he's not like me."

Mozenrath received a barrage of blinks and shocked expressions at that.

He nodded gravely, apparently expecting as much. "I know; the common belief is that a wizard's apprentice is meant to be an extension, a continuation, of his own self." He gestured. "I'm of no doubt in most cases that's true…but not in mine."

"Why not?" Jasmine asked.

Mozenrath's dark eyes narrowed. "I've actually given it a great deal of thought; for a long time, the answer eluded me-by design, no doubt. But…after the last few days, it has become clear…at last." He paused, looking down to ensure Xerxes still slept before finishing:

"I was never _meant_ to survive. I was _never_ his apprentice in truth."

"What!?" Al and company exclaimed, almost in unison.

Another grim nod. "Indeed; Desdane trained me, instructed me in the magical arts and seemed to groom me to be his successor one day…but he made a grave error when he returned; an error which, _quite literally_, revealed his true hand."

"Which was?" the princess inquired.

Mozenrath flexed his bone arm, still meticulously wrapped in silk. "The gauntlet; it showed me his real motives."

"But, how did your gauntlet do that?"

"That's just it princess; the gauntlet was never, in fact, _mine_."

This revelation was only met with silence.

The wizard sighed, this time in resignation before going on. "It was my belief that the gauntlet I came to bond with was the one known as the Hand of Mordu. According to legend, it possessed a remarkable ability to _absorb_ a wizard's blood magic and once it was safely encased within the gauntlet, to amplify said magic a thousand fold—as well as prolong the wizard's life for indefinitely. Of course, the price for that power was also spelled out in the texts I found…but when I discovered that this relic was already in Desdane's possession and took it from him…it proved a deception."

"Meaning?" Iago prompted, in a tone that said_: I know where this is going. _

Mozenrath gave him a thin attempt at a glower and continued: "The gauntlet I wore was not the Hand of Mordu…. When…Desdane returned that night after our encounter, he revealed the gauntlet was in fact…one of a _pair_."

Iago groaned, putting a wing over his face, Aladdin thought in dismay. His stomach tied in knots.

"And?" he softly coaxed the wizard.

Mozenrath took a small, centering breath. Jasmine tightened her grip on Al's hand; he could see the sympathy in her face: the tight line of her mouth and pinched corners of her eyes said all.

"The gauntlet responded to his call at once," the wizard admitted at length, his tone carefully empty of all emotion, contrasting his haunted face, "it changed color, and returned to Desdane, matching exactly the other he wore already." Another sigh. "The pair is known as _Al'dar_ _de'val'og_, or: the Hands of Death."

Iago's legs suddenly became limp as overcooked noodles. Wordlessly, he sank from his perch to the sofa, landing beside Jasmine.

"This time," he muttered, unable to move from the shock, "we're dying _for sure_."

Al and Jaz exchanged bewildered glances and clenched each other's hands tighter. Reflexively, Aladdin pulled Jasmine closer to him before asking:

"And, what do those gauntlets _do_, exactly?"

Mozenrath was actually able to shrug at this point. "What does the title tell you? According to the scrolls of that era, the Sorcerer-King of the realm of Al'dar was said to be dying; but, he was a powerful magician who challenged Death itself to a duel, offering if he won, he'd give Death whatever he wished, and of course Death agreed to the same. Well, so the story goes, they battled, and the magician, by some unknown means, was able to sever both of Death's hands. Naturally he was declared the winner. For his price, he demanded that Death give him 1,000 years of life; and moreover, that Death confess _how exactly_ he takes the lives of his victims. Death professed it was by touch…and that it would take at least the thousand years for his hands to regrow so he could resume his work. And so, the Sorcerer-King transformed the two amputated hands into the gauntlets, which he wore…and according to legend, never died. But, by some means or another…Desdane has the gauntlets now. I don't know how he found them or by what devising…but, if the legend is true, then Desdane is literally wearing Death's hands _at this moment_…." He covered his face with one hand, rubbing his brow. "And that isn't even the worst part."

Iago fainted.

"Not the worst part?" Al repeated his tone thick with disbelief. "How is that _not_ the worst part?"

Jasmine's hand was like ice in his. "He means the Armory- don't you?"

His face etched with the gravity of the moment, Mozenrath nodded, slowly. "Xerxes did take you to it then."

"For the weapons of the dead, yes." The princess answered.

Mozenrath put his head down. "I didn't mean for it to be this way," he quietly admitted, "truly. Whatever else you think of me…." He shook his head and looked up at them, his alabaster face ashen with regret. "Those weapons weren't there for the reasons you think."

Genie was fanning Iago and trying to revive him. Finally, the bird stirred.

"No, I wanna…stay passed…out," he breathed, "wake me…when we're dead." A pause. "No…don't….wake me then…either."

Jasmine patted Iago gently. "We need your input Iago; you worked for a sorcerer once, we need you focused."

Iago clumsily sat up and gave Mozenrath an inscrutable look. He shook and brushed his wings off.

"Okay, okay, I'll be ill later," he mumbled.

Jasmine finally felt that it was all right to ask the question that plagued her most. "Mozenrath, what _exactly is_ your Armory for?"

Mozenrath gave the princess what Aladdin could only call a small, _approving_ smile. "You continue to catch me off guard, princess," he quietly said, before explaining, "for long before he ever brought me to the Land of the Black Sand, Desdane was a…fanatical traveler. He scoured the world for every type of relic he could get his hands on…. I won't deny he passed that trait to me; after supposedly over throwing him, I continued his work…but not for the same reason."

Aladdin caught two things there; Mozenrath _had_ traveled, but only for questing, he probably never lingered in any one place long enough to really learn new things about the world; and two:

"What do you mean 'supposedly' overthrew Desdane?"

The wizard rubbed his head again. "Desdane's ruse didn't stop at the gauntlet. The night he returned, he confessed, in so many words, that he knew I would attempt to dethrone him one day; and so, he planned accordingly. He had foreknown also that planetary alignment would suffice in undoing the spells I had utilized to defeat him and transform him into a mamlock." The wizard took a deep breath, looking regretfully down at Xerxes. "He knew, from the start, what my plans were."  
"But, how could he?" Al asked.

"Through the gauntlet," Mozenrath soberly replied, "it bonds to you so completely it absorbs your thoughts and feelings, as well as magic. But, as it was in fact, Desdane's and therefore still united to him…." a shuddering breath, "he surely knew my thoughts as well as his own."

His tone was chilling in its finality.

"I see," Al grimly murmured, glancing at Jasmine. "But, why go to all of this trouble? For what end? What gain?"

Another head shake; Al tried to not think of how shadowed and tormented the wizard's dark eyes looked. Al had no trouble thinking Mozenrath had one foot in reality and the other in his memories.

"I'm…not entirely sure," he confessed after a long moment, his voice tired and empty. "I'm not even fully certain why he chose _me_."

"Why is that?" Jasmine questioned, tilting her head to one side, in bafflement.

"Because he hated me," Mozenrath immediately returned, his tone hardening unexpectedly, "from the very beginning, he—but that's not important."

Hedging, Al noted.

"The important thing is, he took me for a purpose, but not to be his apprentice. Further, he knew I would defy him one day…but he allowed it." He gestured in bewilderment. "I simply cannot tell you _why_."

Iago huffed. "I can tell you why—"

Everyone looked at him—

"Because Jafar was right: Desdane is crazy beyond crazy. The looniest of the loons." The bird waved a wing in conclusion. "Jafar steered clear of him for a reason."

Mozenrath snorted in derision. "Indeed; because he was a coward."

"Because he wasn't interested in getting _flambéed,_" Iago retorted, "everyone knows Desdane doesn't make alliances, doesn't like anyone coming to his kingdom. He's a loner; the only time something magical is around him is when he's _taking their magic_; the end."

Mozenrath mostly held back the shiver. Iago almost looked apologetic at his words.

"True enough," the wizard said after a moment, his tone vacant.

Jasmine sighed; giving herself a moment to take it all in. "What about the Armory?" she asked again, "why did you continue his work? You never used those relics…and you could have. The fact is," she waved for emphasis, "with everything I saw in there…you could have won—easily in fact. So…why never use them?"

"There is a reason," Mozenrath softly allowed.

"Which is?" Jasmine delicately pressed.

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**A/N: **That's it for now; R&R plz! Have a great night


	48. Chapter 48: No Reason to Hide

**A/N: **Hey y'all; I cut off the last chapter because I didn't wanna overload everyone by dropping everything in one chapter; so, here we go. Onward! Thx for reading and reviewing

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 48: No Reason to Hide_

Mozenrath _hated_ telling the truth.

It was _binding_, wrapping around his soul like the inescapable ink prison he could conjure, but was more unbearable than bonding even with a relic—because it always filled him with those accursed _emotions_.

Hatred, vengeance, annoyance, frustration, and so on, those were emotions he was accustomed to and could _deal with_.

But, speaking of Desdane, who had singlehandedly _destroyed_ his life…rage and fury consumed him; that was to be expected, anger in many forms always reared up when Desdane was either near or spoken of…but the _other_ emotions…those he could do without.

He forced them down to his fullest ability as he told his enemies of all people, the truth of his captor—and in so doing, _relived_ as well.

Each memory drove itself into his head like a knife: the vague image of Desdane taking him away…from someplace, the faint sound of a woman screaming and people calling his name—his name which he couldn't even remember anymore.

_He was young; he couldn't recall anymore how old exactly, but a child. He remembered cringing when the black smoke cleared away and the stood in a dark land with sand black as night…._

…_."I will call you Mozenrath. It is the name of a magician; a sorcerer. And you have great magic in your blood, boy."_

"_Where am I?"_

"_My kingdom." A hand making a sweeping gesture. "The Land of the Black Sand."_

_He recalled shuddering; seeing strange people who looked…dead._

"_I want to go home."_

_A hard tone of voice. "_This_ is your home now, boy. Forget that other place, those other people. You'll never see them again."_

_His clearest memory was the next moment, where he swore to himself he'd prove the dark man wrong…no matter what._

The memories are vaguer after that; impressions of pain, punishment, dark rooms and terrifying creatures at every corner. He learned obedience quickly—_pain_ was a swift teacher.

"_You will learn your place; you will learn to obey your master, boy."_

_Never_ master, never that. Desdane imprisoned him, kidnapped him, reduced his memories to cinders…but _never_ was a master.

A tyrant, a _monster;_ an abomination— but never a master.

"You heard me correctly," he told Aladdin and his group of self-appointed heroes.

"But, you _collected_ those relics," the princess reminded him.

Mozenrath nodded.

"But you never intended to _use_ them?" the doubt was unhidden in her voice.

"Correct," was all the wizard said. He knew they would never believe him; but, the fact that he _never did_ utilize the Armory said enough, he thought.

"But, then why seek them out at all?" the princess asked, waving a hand in bafflement.

"Oh, I did have plans for them," Mozenrath elaborated, "but, I had no intentions of touching any of them until I had the Book of Khartoum."

Everyone was silent and attentive; they all remembered the infernal book then.

_Oh, joy_, Mozenrath thought. He recollected it too—and how long it took to _rebuild_ after the catastrophe of his defeat took place—that traitorous wizard-book….

"What you don't know," he said after a breath, "is that the Book of Khartoum was said to contain all of the most powerful secrets of wizardom. Every secret, every power, of every relic was said to be chronicled within its pages. Ergo, I sought it out and opened it."

"So, you planned on learning how to control those relics with Khartoum's book?" the street rat inquired.

"No."

"NO?" the group asked. It was so annoying when they did that; he didn't need proof that these people perhaps only had _one mind_ to share between them—_not_ in view of what was coming.

"No," Mozenrath emphasized, "I planned on gleaning every bit of knowledge I could from that wretched book… to _destroy_ the relics Desdane and I found."

The heroes' flabbergasted expressions would have been…_delectable_ any other day. But, his stomach was too busy nauseously reeling for Mozenrath to enjoy the moment properly.

Fate and irony conspiring against him—again; he was suddenly seized by bone-weariness.

He was too old; in truth, he didn't remember exactly how old he was—though he guessed around 19…but it didn't matter.

There was so little of him left for this…he was too razed, too scoured, too mangled and too…_old_. He felt as though he'd already lived for thousands of years…and he doubted he was older than 22.

He rubbed his brow again, realizing now the sand witch had said nothing since this vile dialogue started. Glancing her way, he saw she was preoccupying herself by teasing Rajah with the plush mouse. But…her face was etched with concern, lined with deep musing.

So…she was simply taking it all in then…and mulling it over.

He liked the fact that she clearly favored animals. It was…comforting to know, for some reason he couldn't exactly place. And clearly the tiger enjoyed her attention too.

"Why would you not use the Armory; you must have known it would guarantee your victory?" the princess carefully asked.

His countenance was probably betraying him again; he straightened and forced his face back to neutrality—it was far safer.

"The fact is, princess," he slowly replied, mostly succeeding in keeping his tone empty and not grave, "nearly everything in the Armory is far more dangerous than I could describe with words."

Shock melted from the group; dread and anxiety coming—rightly—to replace it.

"How?" the street rat asked tentatively.

Mozenrath took a brief moment to re-center himself and then: "Most relics you encounter in this world are of a moderate variety; and what I mean by this is they're powerful, but not _extreme_ in nature. There are some though," his voice became stonier here, more grim, "that _are_ of that 'extreme' branch. Which of you wants to guess what my Armory contains?"

"Oh boy," the bird muttered.

"Exactly," Mozenrath returned, "Desdane and I made it our mission, per se, to locate every extreme-level relic and to house them all in one place. Desdane wished to either drain them of their magic…or bend them to his will. But…I had seen what he did with magic…and no doubt what many other magicians out there would _gladly_ mimic doing in his place. And so," his voice rose, with the urgency and conviction of his purpose, "they had to be destroyed. Only then, would they _never_ be used for those ends."

The bird, of course, looked skeptical—but then Mozenrath noticed the genie and monkey did too.

The sand witch only continued to listen; and the street rat and princess seemed to be weighing his words.

"And uh…how is it a wizard like you," the bird suspiciously asked, "wouldn't think he was _capable_ of handling all those 'extreme' relics?"

Mozenrath knew the parrot was trying to prick at his pride—and trick him into "confessing" his true motives—that he was going to utilize the relics.

Except—the bird succeeded; though attacking his pride was _never_ wise.

The bird wilted under the vicious glare Mozenrath stabbed him with, fluidly standing at the same time. The others tensed; the street rat reached for something in his pocket—the Dagger of the Dead, Mozenrath could sense it. The tiger quit playing and rose, growling at him threateningly.

Its teeth _were_ rather massive, he could see at this close range.

"You least of all have no excuses," Mozenrath bit out, holding Xerxes and keeping him asleep with magic, "if you _did_ serve this would-be sorcerer, Jafar, then you know about the elite relics." Dark eyes flashed as the anger swelled within him; he welcomed it, thinking about Desdane brought a gnawing chill to his already aching body, at least the anger warmed him as it consumed his form. "The little-known fact about them is this: they can almost _never_ be truly controlled…their power is so beyond comprehension it makes them thoroughly unstable. They're created by deluded wizards seeking a way to control the world through one device…but it can never be done. They're renegade relics; fickle and capricious." Dark eyes blazed in the direction of Genie. "They only thing equally dire to the world is a _freed_ genie—because both are capable of destroying the world a _billion times over_ if set loose. And I couldn't conquer the world if it was _destroyed_ by those relics; now could I?"

He saw the street rat and princess make the connection; at least _now_ they understood why he detested any and all freed genies. They were a plague, a _catastrophe_ waiting to happen—with glittering effects and party favors…at least the world would end in an _entertaining_ way….

He had read all of the chronicled horror stories of freed genies and freed elite relics.

The details were disturbingly similar; both stories were thick with the gore, the continents of disaster, or genocidal death, of entire kingdoms lay to waste—

All because some fool thought it was a 'good deed,' turning one of these…'entities' loose.

_The most devastating mistakes ever made were done on the threshold of 'good intentions_,' a scholar had once said.

Ergo; good intentions were not a thing to pursue—ever.

But that infernal bird only responded to his ranting with a measuring look. The sand witch hadn't tensed as the others did…she merely sat and looked at him, her face indiscernible.

He wasn't liking how hard it was to read her…some _commoner_ shouldn't be so…complex. It felt wrong; off somehow.

"He's telling the truth guys," the bird finally announced.

Mozenrath couldn't stop himself from blinking in shock. That wretched bird had been…_testing_ him!?

"You insolent…" he began, summoning his magic.

A hand grabbed his right hand, which was aglow with sapphire flame. "Don't even think about it," the sand witch firmly said as he riveted to her in anger, "not after all it took to put you back together again."

He wanted to laugh; put him back together again?

"…_but this time, I won't put you back together again afterwards." _

No, there was no 'putting him back together,' that caravan had long since come and gone. So many pieces of him were simply …gone—

When the street rat had mentioned the legendary Cave of Wonders, he had felt a flicker of hope.

The Cave had resided near the northern border of the Land of the Black Sand; he could see Desdane perhaps concealing something there—like his memories, for instance.

His 'mentor' wielded more than enough power to cow the Cave's lion head; it was plausible.

The sand witch pulled him back down to the sofa; he let her…and let his magic dissipate.

The annoying bird wasn't worth it anyways.

The princess waited a moment, perhaps to ensure that he was truly 'calmed' for the moment, before asking: "What did you mean when you said you weren't sure why Desdane chose you? How would he even have _known_ to choose you?"

"You mean how did he know I have magic?"

A nod.

Mozenrath forced the dark images back; the feelings of being seized and dragged from his…he couldn't recall anymore. Family? Former life? Bleary pictures and muted voices were mainly what he had left….

Desdane would pay…and the other he held responsible as well.

Desdane would receive his due vengeance for taking him; the other…he'd receive his own punishment for refusing to help him—long ago when help was possible.

There was no such hope for him now.

And so…there was no point in keeping anything secret anymore, Mozenrath realized in a numbing moment of epiphany. He was already destroyed beyond hope of reparation, he couldn't return to being a person he couldn't even remember-and surely everyone already knew that…so why hide?

His resolve seemed to re-cement itself at that; he would heal, he would help these self-proclaimed heroes stop Desdane…and then he'd have his revenge.

After that…well, Mozenrath supposed that depended on whether or not he survived.

He'd cross that river when (and if) he came to it.

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**A/N: **I'm going to continue breaking this down because Moze is dealing with some HUGE internal crisis right now and coming to some groundbreaking moments in his life as he readjusts to this new path. That being the case, I want these chapters sized enough where my readers can walk beside him more closely and better understand the psychology of what's driving him to these various decisions and realizations. Anyways, were at 5,965 readers…OMG! Almost 6 thousand! Incredible! Well, we've got a long ways to go yet; we'll see what happens. Enjoy! Plz leave a review!


	49. Chapter 49: Devourer of the Soul

**A/N: **So, to "Guest" who asked if we could get the rest of the conversation up: yep, will do. This is a bit deeper stuff I'm putting out, so it might take longer cause I wanna do this right; and #2: when do we get back to the villains? You gotta wait a few more chapters for that. Ok; so onward! R&R plz! Enjoy!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 49: Devourer of the Soul_

Mozenrath was beyond the point of being surprised when he looked up and saw the _worry_ poorly concealed on the faces of the street rat and princess.

He didn't understand them and their endless…compassion.

For a long while he had been revolted by it; their pathetic emotional weakness.

Now…it just plain baffled him.

But, they weren't, surely, going to change any time soon…so he resigned himself to having to tolerate it—at least for the indeterminate future.

"Most magicians, like myself," he began, addressing the princess's question, "have a limited ability to sense the presence of magic in another. One usually hones their powers to detect either the magic residing in a relic…or a person. Very few can do both, at least masterfully. Obviously, most magic-users select the former—Desdane is one of the _rare_ wizards who can aptly feel both."

"So…he could just sense the magic in you, just like that?" the princess asked, her brow pinched with uncertainty.

Mozenrath nodded. "He would have been able to even do so with the Gilt Mirror…a powerful relic that is in my Citadel—" he caught their unsurprised looks.

"Ah; so Xerxes told you then."

The street rat nodded. "He did after we reached Sadira's one ruin. He said it can see anywhere; distance isn't a factor."

"He was right; it's a uniquely powerful mirror."

"So," the princess went on, her eyes unfocused as she pieced it together, "Desdane sensed your magic by using his…and maybe a mirror, then took you away, but that doesn't explain why he would take your memories. Or deceive you with the gauntlet."

Mozenrath sighed. "No, it doesn't," he conceded wearily, "the fact is, princess, the memories are plain enough: I defied him. He brought me there for his own purposes, I had no intention of cooperating and by removing my memories; he hoped to remove any _reason_ for me to want to escape. The latter; he no doubt had multiple reasons: control was probably one, another…well," he sighed again and rubbed his brow, not seeing the concerned way Sadira pursed her lips at that, "as I already told you…he despised me to no end; even before I attempted any escapes. He never revealed why..." and the wizard looked up at the ceiling, his face contemplative.

"I have wondered," he said after a moment, "if it wasn't because I reminded him of his previous apprentice."

"How is that?" Aladdin asked.

"Because, I found out through…rumors that she had dark, curly hair," and he pulled on one of his stray locks for emphasis, before adding, "Desdane made me cover my head at all times when around him—"

Hence the turban, Aladdin deduced.

"And I noticed him several times, when he wasn't even angry, glance at my hair and glower," Mozenrath paused to push the memories away, "I never found out who she was…her name, nor anything really about her—" he looked up to a panorama of questioning looks, "I sought out what I could about her in the libraries at the Citadel; my guess is, Desdane obliterated any reference to her…according to what little facts I could glean, she was hopelessly treacherous."

The princess nodded in understanding; the street rat rubbed the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful.

Amazing….

"That still doesn't explain the gauntlet though," the street rat observed.

Finally, the sand witch spoke. "Aladdin's right. If Desdane used the gauntlet only to bind you to him…in the event you tried to overthrow him…he could have just used the Bloodknife on you and left it at that."

"The what?" the princess asked.

"The Bloodknife," Sadira clarified, gesturing with one hand, "it's an old relic that the sand witches wrote about Desdane finding years back. For some reason, he never used it on his last apprentice, but…in light of that…if I were him," she glanced at Mozenrath with an apologetic face, making the wizard blink , caught off guard, "I'd use it on my next apprentice for sure; that would have prevented any treason."

Now, the headache came in force. Mozenrath rubbed his temples as he heard the sand witch rise and head back to her 'herb table.'

"No," he said abruptly, guessing her intent, "I'm all right."

Sadira turned her expression saying: don't give me that.

"It'll pass as soon as this is over," he flatly insisted, "let it be."

Without a word, she reseated herself. But then: "One more symptom and you take another elixir…no argument."

Mozenrath said nothing to that, only moving on with: "He did use the Knife on me."

The sand witch paled. "But…how did you?"

"It doesn't matter," the wizard bit out, looking away, wanting more than anything for this conversation to _end._ He didn't want to relive exactly how long and how many agonizing experiences with how many relics it took to break the Bloodknife's hold over him once Desdane was 'quelled.' He didn't want to recollect how many days and nights he forsook food and sleep, driving himself to feverish madness _inventing_ the magic required to _liberate_ himself from that wretched blade.

"I'm…I'm sorry," he heard the sand witch whisper remorsefully, "I'm sure it was..." he heard her swallow hard, "Forget I asked."

He looked up; she had turned away, but the fraction of her face he could see was deluged with regret—and sympathy.

"Don't," the words left his mouth before he could really consider them, and she looked back at him, "it doesn't matter now," his voice was hollow, and he was grateful for that, "it happened; it's over. Let that be enough."

The sand witch soberly nodded.

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Jasmine was burning to ask, especially after the…meeting halfway moment took place between their two residential magicians, exactly what the Bloodknife did.

But…after taking in the tormented expression that Mozenrath wore like a second robe…she decided to ask Sadira alone; later on.

It was easy enough to piece together though; obviously it was a relic that bound two people together…to _extreme_ levels too, if the dialogue she just heard was to be believed…as well as what had been implied-and, if it was a _blade_, with the word "blood" in its title….

Jasmine felt safe guessing that the two people to be bound were cut with the _knife_, mixing their _blood _and so binding them together—that was what she'd bet her gold on anyhow.

"Does it work both ways?" Jasmine found herself asking instead. Mozenrath looked up at her…his face part bemused and part expectant.

"You said he did use the Knife on you?"

A nod.

"And the gauntlet, the one that turned out to be…other than what you expected. It also bound you to him?"

A second nod.

"So…he knew your thoughts and feelings as well as his own?"

A third nod.

"Does that mean the same was true for you? Could you sense his thoughts and feelings too?"

A head shake.

Jasmine partly concealed her groan of disappointment.

"You're right, princess," the wizard tonelessly informed her, "it would have been deeply advantageous…if true. But, Desdane was able to block nearly all of himself from me. He was like a shadow…a specter. I did uncover some of how he felt and thought…but not nearly to the extent he did me; I'm sure."

Aladdin rose at that moment, and paced around the sofa, back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck all the while.

"You must have had unbelievable magic," he mused, staring at the floor—

Mozenrath's attention riveted to him, his expression…cautiously incredulous.

"For him to need two powerful relics…just to _manage_ you," Al finished his tone far-off. "He must have had an unbelievable reason for not wanting you as an apprentice." He stared up at the wizard. "Are you sure you're right about that?"

Mozenrath nodded, gravely. "The gauntlet, along with binding me and _holding my magic_—" he shivered, Jasmine realized in rage, and it hit her that Desdane had that magic now, "it also didn't just devour my arm—that's what the true Hand of Mordu did; but remember this was _not_ truly the Hand. This gauntlet, part of the pair…it devours not the _flesh_…but the _soul_."

Dead silence reigned for over a full minute.

"O-kay," Iago said at length, "does anyone mind if I'm ill _now_?"

Mozenrath had let his gaze fall to the floor; he raised it for a moment to take in the parrot.

"Frankly, bird," he emotionlessly said, "I wouldn't blame you a single jot."

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**A/N: **K! Hope you enjoyed! Plz review!


	50. Chapter 50: Reprieve

**A/N: **6,659 readers to date. I SOOOO don't deserve u guys! I've been getting lots of 'congrats' from readers about this fic and many saying they're 'devoted,' (*sniffle! Wipes away tears*), but really, y'all can't sell yourselves short on what YOU contribute to this fic…so, a million times over, THX! SOOOO very grateful to y'all for your standing by this story!

We got a couple quick questions to deal with: lots of 'when are we getting back to Desdane?' A: soon; promise. I know you're curious, but we've got a few more things to establish with the heroes before we get back to him. But, it's coming soon; promise! Q: Also, WHY the many chapters on Moze and the 'background stuff?' A: first, what I said before, I wanted to give this to you guys in 'doses,' per se, rather than dump it on you at once. There are factors that tie strongly to the END of the story that I want established now. Also, there are days where I only have a little time to give to this fic; and want to upload at least something for you guys…so, multiple reasons. But, we are closing this part; so, thanks for bearing with me as we wrap this up for the next segment!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 50: Reprieve _

The sultan's voice flitted from the door as it swung open to the group, snapping everyone out of their musings.

"Oh!" the sultan exclaimed, running in his 'hopping' fashion to the princess, "Jasmine! There you all are!"

Mozenrath's dark eyes darted to the door as the head guard (he was pretty sure the man's name was Razoul), and a couple others came in ominously behind the ruler—no doubt to ensure the wizard would try 'no tricks.'

_As if that ever made a difference, _Mozenrath dryly reflected.

"I went to your chambers to see if you were ready yet," the sultan went on, not even noticing that Mozenrath was awake and standing only a few feet away from him, "well, your gown has been placed since dawn and your bride's maids have been dressing for hours! And you're not even in your room!"

"We've been finishing a few things here, Father," Jasmine gently told the sultan, "but I was going to my rooms in a couple minutes." She touched his arm fondly. "Don't worry, Father, I won't be late for my own wedding."

Aladdin grinned at that. "I'm sure Genie can take care of any problems that would come up, sultan." He put up a halting hand at the sultan's alarmed: '_something might go wrong?'_ expression. "Not that anything will."

Mozenrath had to shake his head at that. Since when did trouble _not_ follow the street rat with a passion? He caught the burly head guard give him a dark, suspicious glower at that.

Oh well; keep them on their toes—after drowning in vile memories…he could use the diversion.

Mozenrath gave the guard a minute, though thoroughly diabolical grin—just for effect.

He half-repressed the snicker at the guard's reaching for his sword—_fool._

He only smiled at the threatening look 'Razoul' threw at him in response. As if a _mere mortal_ could do anything to him! But…the palace guards were always so _very_ amusing….

"Well, hurry up, Jasmine," the sultan urged, missing the entire transaction playing out behind him, "the wedding is in two hours!"

The princess smiled soothingly at him. "More than enough time, Father."

But, the sultan was having none of it. "Come along," he insisted, taking her by the hand and pulling her up—though she let him, "come along. Everything else can wait. I've found rooms for all of the guests and everything else is seen to. Everyone is having a late breakfast in the dining hall…but the time _will fly_! Now, your servants have everything prepared for you!"

Everyone chuckled as the sultan hustled his daughter—albeit lovingly—to the door; the guards quietly in tow.

Aladdin cleared his throat. "Uh, sultan."

Jasmine blew him a kiss before disappearing out the large door; the amiable ruler hastily returned to the group—this time catching sight of Mozenrath.

He stopped dead in his tracks; starting and exclaiming. "Oh! You're awake already!"

Mozenrath wasn't prepared for the lack of…well, _everything_ in his voice.

No anger? Malice? No fear even? Just—the tone of being caught off guard.

Mozenrath blinked at that; he reminded himself though he'd never really taken the time to acquaint himself with the ruler he had tried to depose on so many occasions.

A pity; apparently.

"Indeed," was all he said, his tone carefully bereft of rancor. He offered the ruler a very slight, barely noticeable bow; but the sultan still blinked…again not prepared for it.

Well; Mozenrath had to admit—without regrets, no less—his reputation _was_ deserved.

Besides; keeping the opposition guessing had many advantages—entertainment value at the head of the list.

"Oh, good, good," the sultan replied without missing a beat; and briefly Mozenrath wondered if the little man perhaps had the same idea—because that wasn't how he was _supposed _to respond, "we'll have so much to discuss after the wedding."

A pit formed in the wizard's stomach. Reliving those memories _again_ was not something he looked forward to…especially with those wretched guards within earshot.

He had no intentions of being entertainment fodder for _them_—or anyone. Ever.

No; that wasn't going to happen.

Something must have shown on his face, because the street rat immediately chimed in with: "Actually sultan, I was planning to ask Sadira to bring you up to speed after her and Mozenrath got back from the Old Palace."

Mozenrath never thought the day would come where he felt _grateful_ to the street rat.

Fate and irony; fate and irony—those hideous conspirators. They dogged his every step.

"Oh," the sultan said, his whole body jolting a bit as he turned to Sadira, "well, that would be very considerate, Sadira; when you're free of course."

"Of course, sultan," the sand witch put in, scratching Rajah's head. The cat's 'purr's' were quite loud; his eyes only half open in bliss.

"Well, I must be on my way; the final guests have just arrived and need accommodations," the sultan avowed, turning to leave; but then seemed to catch himself and spun back to Sadira and Mozenrath again. "Now I want you both to be very careful when you're underground. There's no telling what you'll find down there; exercise the greatest caution."

Mozenrath reflexively opened his mouth to retort he needed no such admonitions…except he was too stuck on the fact that the sultan had included him in his urging. He swallowed his shock as the sand witch assured him they'd be alert; but then he realized the little monarch was waiting for his guarantee as well.

"Of course sultan," he solemnly answered at length, "we'll be most vigilant."

That seemed to satisfy the ruler, who nodded with a pleased smile and bounded off without another word; clearly filled with the trademark exhilaration of any father of a bride.

_How could someone his age have so much_ energy? The wizard thought, perplexed.

"Don't forget, Aladdin, two hours," the jolly ruler called back, and disappeared out the door before Aladdin could reply.

The street rat only shook his head, chuckling amiably.

"You have a…_complex_ father in law," Mozenrath tonelessly observed.

"The sultan's a _great_ man," Aladdin immediately declared, rising, but…his tone wasn't antagonistic or aggressive…only, prideful. "He welcomed me into his home, didn't care where I came from…he sees _all _of his people as worthy. And he's the kindest man I've ever known."

The 'kind' part, Mozenrath could objectively agree with; the 'great' part…on the grounds of letting any low born vagrant into his home and _marry_ his royal daughter…!?

_That_ pronouncement, Mozenrath subscribed to the street rat's 'idealistic hero syndrome,' which was apparently untreatable.

Aladdin waited for a moment, clearly expecting him to reply, but when he failed to, asked: "What will Desdane do now?"

Mozenrath sat back down, feeling his knees weaken; not out of fear—he was beyond fearing the other sorcerer now, but….

He wasn't sure why, exactly. Perhaps the morning had just been too long. He saw the street rat staring at Xerxes, no doubt having unraveled why the little eel had slumbered all this while.

He wanted to spare the eel this; Xerxes had suffered far more loss from Desdane than he…they had both been drained of what had made them…_them_; but Xerxes had been made more delicate for it.

Mozenrath? He had simply ceased to care; that was the advantage of having one's mind and soul _shredded_ to mangled bits…it became so very easy, to simply _not care_ about anyone or anything.

So…very, very easy.

"There are two things I know for certain he will do," the wizard quietly told them.

"Which are?"

"He'll wait until his plan has reached perfection and every piece is flawlessly set," Mozenrath said, his tone almost reciting, "he'll not only want a victory…but a _crushing_ victory." He put his head down and sighed. "Especially considering, by now, he certainly realizes a sand witch thwarted him—again. He'll not take that lightly." He gave Sadira a grave look. "You're a marked woman now, for sure."

He watched the sand witch's face somber with what could only be suspicions being affirmed—but the absence of fear he didn't anticipate. "Well," she quipped, her tone solid—and brave, "you didn't expect to have his wrath all to yourself, did you?"

Mozenrath wasn't sure how to respond to that…so he didn't. But, he did wonder what sort of life she lived to possess such…_audacity_; to be so thoroughly acquainted with danger.

Aladdin nodded…not seeming terribly surprised either at the wizard's words; the genie and animals likewise. "And the other?" he prompted.

Mozenrath sighed in resignation. "That he undoubtedly is aware I'll tell you all I know of him…ergo…he'll be certain to act in a way none of us can expect."

"Sounds like your typical shrewd, cagey wizard," the parrot put in.

Mozenrath wanted to bite his head off in some scathing way…except he wasn't wrong.

"Well," the sand witch suddenly cut in, "if he's going to be sly…then we need to be too. He probably doesn't know the Old Palace is still under Agrabah, so, I say we head down there and see what we can't find. We can play subterfuge as well as him, right Aladdin?"

She and the street rat shared a…conspiratorial grin that Mozenrath didn't understand. There was camaraderie present there…like she and Aladdin _shared_ something between them.

For some reason, he didn't like that. He rubbed his brow; the day was getting too long, after all.

Aladdin glanced at his comic relief and grinned. They all reflected his expression. Genie then poofed into the Spy vs. Spy characters…complete with piles of the standard round, black bombs…all with lit fuses-and of course each bomb had his grinning face.

"I'll think we'll be ready for him, Al," the bombs all said together…before suddenly exploding.

As the smoke cleared, Mozenrath coughed and waved away the choking black clouds and threw the street rat an annoyed glare…though he noted no one was actually hurt, only covered in soot.

He took in Aladdin's disheveled hair, blackened, dirty (correction: _dirtier_) clothes and dust-smeared face.

"Well, I guess you're at least ready for the wedding," he snarked smugly at the other.

Aladdin only threw him a mock frown and laughed. "Hey; for all you know, I might start a new trend."

Mozenrath only grinned. "And here I thought it was _already_ the 'trend' in Agrabah."

Aladdin only rolled his eyes, pretending frustration.

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**A/N: **I wanted to upload something tonight for you guys (it's 2am where I'm at), cause I'm gonna be buried under homework for a few days…but didn't want y'all to wonder what happened to me! LOL…. Gah, this thing, it's called 'life,' and it keeps getting in my WAY! Ahhhhhhh! Anyhow, have a great week and enjoy! Thx for being patient!


	51. Chapter 51: Wedding & War

**A/N: **Hey all; thanks for all the great reviews, feedback and encouragement. I'm happy to report the homework mt. is steadily being conquered—steadily. That's a work in progress too :P Anyways, at 6,774 readers…we're not too far from 8 thou! Who knew; right? But, we need to keep going. I did get one sort-of question on why the sultan didn't react more…badly(?) towards Mozenrath. The reasons for that will be revealed in a later chapter! So…w/o further ado: Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 51: Wedding & War _

The street and his entourage…except the tiger, left the chamber soon after his pet Genie was through, well…being a free genie.

Accursed, bothersome things….

But, then after poofing the room back into orderliness, the genie made the wholly unexpected statement of: "Well, Al, we should probably help the sultan with the last wedding guests while Jaz gets dressed."

And with a blue finger pointed at the filthy boy…one poof later he was clean, groomed and garbed in his wedding finery—

And he still looked like a dirty street rat playing dress up.

You can only put so much rouge on a camel after all….

Mozenrath held back the put-out sigh as the street rat thanked his pet genie—who was clearly _so tamed_ he didn't even need a leash…though that would hardly help in their case: the do-gooder fool leading the do-gooder fool, and all of that.

Mozenrath caught the street rat slide a questioning look to the sand witch as he left, as if asking whether she'd be all right without them.

To his surprise, the sand witch only gave him an assuring smile and gave the tiger a nudge for it to follow Aladdin.

The big cat only lay down, and partly barred its teeth at Mozenrath. The wizard didn't even waste the energy to react.

The 'hero squad' vanished a moment later. Mozenrath caught the head guard peek in suspiciously at him as Aladdin and his drones departed.

Mozenrath made certain to flick his wrist just enough that a tiny burst of magic shot from his fingers…and grinned at the huge guard's reaction.

He blinked in surprise, then swallowed his shock and put a hand on his blade.

He snarled at the wizard before closing the large door.

"Are you done yet?" the sand witch asked with a mock sigh as she rose, heading for her herb table. Mozenrath only snickered at her annoyance; but, it was still impressive that she was that observant—or perhaps she sensed it, rather.

Still; that was noteworthy too.

"Perhaps," he said un-committedly, watching her pull out some bottles and little leather sacks filled with dried ingredients.

Now that they were alone—not counting the cat—there was much magical business they had to sort out…since they could do so without interference from Aladdin and his lackeys.

"How much do you know about the last war between Desdane and the Sand Witches' Empire?"

He watched her shoulders drop…she had been anticipating that then.

Quietly, but concisely, she summoned a leather bag and a massive, weathered map unrolled itself and hovered before him; Mozenrath recognized the Primary marker right away, as well as the marked battle sites and old kingdom borders. The sand witch proceeded to not turn, but continue her work as she relayed everything to him that he assumed she had already done with the do-gooders. Her tone was too…rehearsed for it to be otherwise.

"And you discovered this, how?"

The sand witch gave what was no doubt a condensed version of her studies, travels and meetings with scholars and historians who were able to fill in most of the gaps.

Except how it _ended_.

He flexed his hand and clenched it as he thought—an old habit; but the sound of crinkling silk startled him.

He realized his arm hadn't hurt since his awakening…because it was silk bandage, not the gauntlet, which now covered his bone limb.

The pit returned to his stomach.

Taking in the flawlessly wrapped cloth, subtly glistening in the full day sun, Mozenrath heard himself remark: "You did perfectly you know, this."

He heard the other magician turn. He glanced at her long enough to catch a brief shrug.

"Well, I've had a lot of practice," was all she said.

"Oh?"

"Hmmm," she said, pouring dark lavender liquid from a clay bottle into a glass bowl, "when, years back, I was _really_ clumsy. I still am," she said with a small chuckle, which Mozenrath found he didn't mind the sound of, "but not nearly as much. So, I had plenty of times to practice healing…and wrapping bandages," she dryly added with another chuckle.

"I wondered why," Mozenrath confessed, and she gave him a questioning look, "your elixirs are so exactly correct…with a few additions? I imagine they came by trial and error?"

She nodded. "I hated the taste of some…the texture of others…and how _sticky_ some of them were." She made a face, as if remembering, and Mozenrath heard the snicker of amusement slip out before he could stop it.

"Anyways," the sand witch went on, her tone suddenly hesitant and the wizard felt his body tense in response, "I…_would_ ask, um…if there was a way to heal it…but if there were," she let out a small, sympathetic sigh, "I'm sure you would have done it already."

Mozenrath felt himself withdraw inwardly; his insides knotting up in painful ways. He shuddered, and was thankful it was too fine a movement for the sand witch to catch.

"It doesn't matter now," he tonelessly said; knowing full well he didn't sound at all convincing.

Sadira poured her completed concoction into a cup and carefully made her way to him. He took the carved glass from her with murmured thanks and drank it, thankful that it contained some element that soothed and coated his raw throat.

It tasted vaguely of pomegranate and honey, with a hint of some kind of zest.

"Think of how rich you'd become as a healer," he remarked, handing her back the cup.

Setting it down, she only twisted her lips at his remark. "I do plenty of healing, but I don't need the gold."

She received a startled expression for that, and an arched brow.

She only shrugged again. "I have everything I need; I don't care about being rich." She waved a hand and her maps and such all re-packed themselves into the leather bag before floating over to her awaiting hand. "But, we're wasting time; that elixir will give you endurance for this…but you'll still have to sleep when we get back."

Mozenrath only gestured dismissively. "It will suffice just fine." He patted Xerxes gently on the head. The eel yawned and stretched his lithe body. Bleary, mismatched eyes opened and took in the now nearly vacant room.

"Heroes go?"

"Yes, Xerxes; it's just us and the sand witch now."

Rajah let out a low rumble.

The wizard sighed. "And the domesticated cat."

Another rumble, this time louder. Mozenrath only chuckled.

"Ok, so before Rajah decides to make you _his_ breakfast, let's go," the sand witch firmly retorted as she hefted her bag over one shoulder and made for the door.

Mozenrath let Xerxes return to the air and rose to follow.

"We go to Old Palace now?"

"Yes, Xerxes."

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Amazingly, the guards didn't give the sand witch a hard time about letting Mozenrath accompany her. The tiger trailed close behind; Xerxes snapped at a smaller, older guard who reflexively reached for his blade upon seeing Mozenrath emerge. Mozenrath only smiled coldly at the guard and gestured for Xerxes to follow. He caught the "guardsmen" all shiver as he strode away.

He had been right; they were more like escorts than guards.

He offered an inquiring look to the sand witch who only replied with: "The sultan gave his permission; they knew that. What could they do?"

Mozenrath snickered at that. "It would have been more _entertaining_ had they tried something."

The sand witch only huffed. "Look; don't be too much of a bother all right? I only take well-behaved evil wizards questing with me."

Mozenrath had to clamp a hand over his mouth after the laugh came bursting out. Xerxes was chuckling behind his back and blast it all if Mozenrath wasn't sure he heard the cat join in too.

And the sand witch of course only threw him a smug grin before proceeding on.

They crossed a high-ceilinged hallway that led to another corridor; this one had an open section of one side with an ornate balustrade with let one view an immense chamber below. Multiple voices perked the magician's curiosity and drew him to the railing. It was warm beneath his flesh hand; he peered down, hearing the sand witch stop beside him. The domed ceiling overhead blocked the sun, but there were windows enough below that light reached them above as well.

The chamber, done in gold-tan stone and elegant wall paneling and carvings was dominated by a huge table around which were swarmed a massive throng of people, all obviously high-born by their brightly colored head garb and lavish raiment. Mozenrath noted the street rat and sultan standing on the side of the table between it and the wall, the sultan's tone of voice that of explanation…and imperativeness.

_Ah; so they decided to not wait until after the nuptials to give their guests the bad news_, Mozenrath deduced. When he caught the words "Desdane" and "great evil," he heard enough. He pushed away from the scene and forced his voice to remain calm and aloof when he asked the sand witch the direction they should go in. She only passed him a knowing look and gestured for him to follow. He was glad to not be in her line of sight; his treacherous, wretched body was beginning to shake again. He didn't understand why; he hadn't reacted badly to any of the sand witch's elixirs, hearing Desdane's name couldn't have triggered it…not having to relive his grotesque past just a few minutes ago.

Perhaps it was merely catching up with him…all that had transpired the last couple days. Yes; that had to be it, Mozenrath told himself.

But…it wasn't it. He knew that, instinctively; something was happening deep, deep within him. Like, something was…. He stopped.

Like something was _trying to free itself_. No; he was imagining things. He shook the feeling away and ignored it as he forced his feet to keep moving in cadence with the sand witch.

They reached a narrow staircase that led down another corridor, this one of lesser craftsmanship…ergo they were in the lower levels, the wizard intuited. The walls were made of brick, a dark tan color and were chipping in some parts.

Then, he smelled it…herbs—

And the presence of lingering magic…preformed long ago.

The sand witch came to a large wooden door, darkened with age and pulled on the brass ring. With a loud creak, it swung open.

"Welcome to Jafar's rooms," she said to Mozenrath.

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Razoul considered himself vindicated.

The street rat _was_ the biggest jinx in all of history…before it was recorded even.

He stood, forcing his expression and posture to be imposing, as he listened to his sultan tell their wedding guests about the wizard brat's mentor, Lord Desdane.

Apparently, that detestable wizard brat had not destroyed his master…but had transformed him into an undead servant. And last night; the flash or red Razoul had caught skimming the horizon in the direction of his wicked realm? It was the power being unleashed which Desdane had called upon to return.

There were multiple gasps and people fainting from the horror the sultan was trying his hardest reveal to them without robbing the company of all hope for their kingdoms.

But, there was no mistaking it; this Lord Desdane would bring war to not only Agrabah, but to all of the Seven Deserts—

This explained why the sultan was presently urging every kingdom to ally together under one mutual treaty, thus combining their armies and other forces into something powerful enough to oppose this wizard. Of course, there was bickering, rivalries resurrected, and so on, but Razoul had to begrudgingly admit, the street rat was now stepping in…and his words—

They were inspiring; fortifying even. Razoul blinked; his concentration now fully on the boy…just to be certain the endless shifts hadn't affected his hearing.

No; it was so. He scrutinized the faces of the representatives…yes, they were falling under the street rat's sway just as the sultan and princess had.

Razoul sighed; but, for once, he admitted to himself he didn't mind it—_for once_.

More sway meant more swords banding together against this Sorcerer King.

Razoul touched the hilt of his own blade, not missing that both the sultan and the boy had omitted mentioning that Desdane's _apprentice_ was currently running loose in the palace.

His time would come; Razoul promised that to himself with a deep, centering exhale. He had but to wait. It _had_ been surprising to see the wizard without his high-born robes and turban. He had looked…so very _young_—and of course he had seen the sultan notice it too. But, then the brat reminded him of _what he truly was_ by antagonizing him with his magic and manipulations. Razoul had sought some reprieve from the wizard to keep from storming in there and strangling him where he sat. Had only the sultan not been there….

Regardless, age meant nothing to Razoul; boy or not, he had made his allegiance to _evil_ and Razoul would never be gullible enough to accept the brat would ever abandon it. He would help them defeat Desdane only to save his own worthless skin and then reclaim his kingdom and resume his own dark obsessions—if he was _allowed to_ that is.

But Razoul was determined; he would never allow the boy to _live_ long enough to turn on them. There would come a moment when no one would be there to protect that wizard brat…and Razoul _would_ end him for good.

The guard was too busy in his musings to think over-much of it when he noticed the nobleman from last night in the cobalt blue robe stride by…a shorter nobleman at his side.

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Cassim held his self-control in ruthless check as he and Sahid made a discreet exit from the sultan's 'counsel chamber.'

A sorcerer lord from ages ago, returned? Having escaped condemnation to live forever as the undead by use of a rare, incredible feat of magic? Betrayed in fact by his young apprentice? Cassim lifted his face covering and hood, masking his features; this revelation changed all of his plans. There was now more urgency than _ever_ to move.  
"We must be fast, Sahid."

"Indeed; I want to be on the other side of the world when this…_creature_ Desdane brings his war."

"I'll get the Oracle as soon as the ceremony begins. You all grab enough loot for us to live comfortably off of in some far corner of the world until this war passes."

"We shall."

"I'll have the location of my sons before tonight. We'll find them tomorrow and in a few days be far from this place."

"I'll inform the others, Cassim. Be careful."

"You as well."

Sahid nodded and vanished like smoke; ever the perfect thief.

Cassim found the sparse shadows like he belonged there and slowly made his way to the treasury; dearly hoping his sons were close, and so able to find them—and soon.

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**A/N: **All right, how was that? The group here is all on the move. The pieces are coming together! But, homework calls to me…so enjoy and plz leave a review! Till next time!


	52. Chapter 52: Pegasus

**A/N: **Wow, 6,838 readers. It's gotten to the point now where I don't even try to wrap my mind around it! You're probably getting tired of hearing how grateful I am for your support…but I don't want to stop because I truly am, and I don't want you to think I've stopped :P So, you're stuck with it! But, the homework's coming along much better than I expected…so here we go!

ONWARD!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 52: Pegasus_

Aladdin had never thought the day would come when he'd want to kiss Queen Hippsodeth of the Galifem, the warrior women who had once kidnapped, (aka: "recruited"), his betrothed, but at this moment…he _did_.

Just as he and the sultan had explained the situation, and Aladdin had recounted he and his friends' "reconnaissance" journey into Desdane's Citadel…and all the terrors they had encountered there, he had felt so strongly that their joint words would sway the visiting rulers that only through unification did they stand a chance of defeating Lord Desdane.

And then…the rivalries and other ugliness broke out—in droves.

Apparently the guests brought their "baggage" along with their bags, for the wedding.

Aladdin sighed.

The sultan had worked his diplomatic magic…some of the greatest persuasive skill Aladdin had ever seen in all his time at the palace…and some ruffled feathers were smoothed over…but there are always the malcontents that don't want the rifts to be mended.

And then…Queen Hippsodeth, with her right-hand, Scara, beside her, marched up to the sultan and announced that the strength of the Galifem kingdom was behind the sultan without fail…and the power of her warrior women would more than make up for any '_supposed_ lack' of male armies that the fighting parties refused to contribute.

But then, right behind her, Lady Scara's boyfriend, King Pector, ruler of Muskar Island, swaggered up to stand beside the Queen and Scara, his massive frame rippling enough muscles for five men and bellowed proudly that his kingdom would stand with his friend, the sultan—and between his kingdom and the Galifem, the other kingdoms would not be needed and so could go home after the wedding. He then summoned a lightning storm there in the chamber, just to make his point.

Aladdin heard Genie's jaw hit the floor at that one.

Well, to say the least, the quarrels died right there as a room full of egos were stung, pricked and skewered—(and scared!); no king, shah, or lord would ever have it heard that their kingdom wasn't _needed_ for a war of this magnitude! Nor would any ruler lose the chance to be chronicled as battling in a war with _such allies_; everyone had seen Genie as well…and the hero Aladdin was well-known besides.

And certainly a ruler from such a distant land as Muskar…and a kingdom of women, were not going to show up any of the other rulers present!

And so, the alliances were formalized and pledged to in record time. Iago mercifully kept his beak closed, not wanting to be impaled with a magic golden arrow—or lightning bolt.

Speaking of magic…Aladdin glanced around as the sultan was finishing the task of delegating various emissaries to travel to the kingdoms unable to attend the nuptials.

_Where was Genie?_ He heard his friend's voice drift up from a nearby window and Al bowed to the sultan before moving over to investigate.

Aladdin peered out the tall window, taking in the open courtyard below where he usually spent time with Jasmine at 'her' fountain. It was filled with milling guests…as well as Genie and the couriers sultan had assigned to deliver missives warning of Desdane and an offer to join the alliance against him to kingdoms not present already.

However, Genie had apparently been at work—and taking a page from the Galifems' book: he had poofed wings onto all of the horses. 18 steeds now stood around Genie, all testing their various new 'accessories.'

Aladdin grinned at his ingenuity as Genie poofed water skins and rations bags for all of the men; and assured them they would never empty.

There were plenty of 'oow's' and 'ahh's' as the horses all were mounted and galloped across the courtyard, hooves pounding before leaping majestically into the air and spreading their large, feathered wings, swooping high into the clear skies.

Many of the guests waved goodbye to the messengers until they vanished into the distance. The men deserved it, Aladdin thought, if Desdane sensed the magic Genie had used on those horses—

"It was safer than teleporting them all," Genie suddenly said, poofing up beside Al, and giving him an '_I know what you were thinking'_ look "that old Dezzy would have felt for sure."

Al only nodded. He glanced in the direction of Jafar's rooms. "Do you think we should have gone with them?"

"Sadira will manage Moze just fine," Genie said with a dismissive wave of a blue arm. "I mean, if the girl can take three renegade sand witches, I'm sure one crazy wizard won't be too much for her. Besides," he chuckled, "I think eel-boy is starting to like her more than the Wiz-kid, so she'll have help."

Aladdin couldn't help laughing. "Well, he likes her cooking better at least."

Genie folded his arms, mock defensively. "Well, _that_ should be proof enough that my cooking's actually better," he said stubbornly.

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Mozenrath, for the millionth time, wondered: how such a…pathetic excuse for a wizard could possibly be a threat- _even to_ Agrabah?

Jafar's rooms were bare, sparse…and just plain _boring_. They had scoured the room for nearly a half hour…with nothing. Mozenrath found himself mapping out how he would remake the rooms if they were his just to keep his mind from wandering over much.

Xerxes and the tiger were helping, sniffing everything in hopes of unearthing some tell-tale clue.

Xerxes at least, could smell _magic_…Mozenrath wasn't sure how much the cat would actually prove to contribute.

In his peripherals, he watched the sand witch huff out a sigh, planting her hands on her narrow hips.

"We're doing this wrong," she abruptly declared.

"Oh?" he returned, "How so?"

She stared at the stone wall opposite the door. "We're not thinking like the old Vizier."

"Well, in that case; we're hopeless, because there's no possibility of my ever lowering my mind to his dull level."

The sand witch rolled her eyes at that. "Thanks; that's so helpful."

"I thought I'd shock you by being honest."

"That wasn't honest; unless you're saying you can't outthink _Jafar_."

Mozenrath leveled a scathing glower at her for that.

She sweetly smiled in response, and then turned to consider the wall again. "If he was as cagey as Iago says, he'd do something…sneaky, something we'd never see coming," she mused, mostly to herself; she began to pace in a small circle, her eyes roving over the chamber as she walked.

"He'd mark it in a way he'd never forget…but if anyone ever happened in here, he'd never want anything really obvious…and illusion? A trick of some kind?" She blinked as torchlight flickered just right, glaring in her eyes. She stopped, and her eyes widened.

"What is it?" Mozenrath asked, noting that the animals had stopped; catching her strange behavior too.

"He'd never expect the sand witches to return," she said with conviction, "and so he'd leave something sly, but something like—" she pulled the offending torch form it's metal ring and began to wave it at the walls, tilting her head in strange angles as she did.

"Ah-hah!" she exclaimed after a couple moments.

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**A/N: **Sooo, what did Sadira find? If ya's wanna find out, you gotta stay tuned! And PLZ review! They sooo make my day! I hope you enjoyed! Plz let me know if you did….


	53. Chapter 53: Watermark

**A/N: **6,952 readers to date! Yow! *Mind being SO blown! Well, I hope the last two chapters were enjoyable! FYI, Hippsodeth, Pector and Scara from all from the Aladdin TV Series; not OC's, so plz check them out on YouTube if you're not familiar. Personally, Pector always reminded me of Thor, so that's kind of how I plan to write him for this fic. Anyhow, I didn't get any questions about the last two chapters, & I'm happy to say the homework continues to move in the right direction So…. ONWARD!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 53: Watermark_

Mozenrath had no idea what the sand witch seemed so thrilled about.

She was staring at the wall opposite the wooden door, hopping on the balls of her feet in glee…for some reason that the wizard was simply not seeing.

"This has to be it!" she exclaimed, her face lit with excitement.

He glanced at Xerxes, bewildered, only to have the eel give him a baffled look in response.

The eel flew over to the apparently fascinating wall, and sniffed it. His eyes widened.

"Master! Xerxes smell magic! Lots magic!"

Mozenrath drew near to them, the tiger close behind. "Is there some sort of glamour here only sand witches can see?" It was the only possibility that came to mind.

The sand witch threw him a shrewd grin. "So it would seem; but I can fix that."

With a wave of her slender hand, she conjured a bucket of water; it hovered beside her until she gestured to the wall—and the bucket threw its contents all over it.

Some droplets of water splashed on Mozenrath, who opened his mouth to snap at her careless attitude…until he saw it.

The Watermark.

Jafar, it seems, had been a trifle more clever than Mozenrath had first assumed. The tan brick wall before them had been a mix of tan stone, with just the subtlest hint of white to it….

But, the tan, now very much darkened by the water, contrasted starkly with the white—

And the white formed a circle of symbols that Mozenrath recognized: a sand witch runes.

He turned to the sand witch, who was grinning victoriously. "Well, you're quite perceptive," he allowed.

She had the audacity to laugh at that. "You're so generous to say so," she quipped in response, though her tone was not unkind.

"I can be, on occasion," was the magnanimous admission returned.

"But only on occasion," the sand witch mock warned, "otherwise, what would people think?"

Mozenrath considered it. "That the world was about to end."

They all laughed for a moment; but then the sand witch stepped forward, running her hands against the rough stone, her eyes half open.

She was seeking the weakness in Jafar's work, Mozenrath intuited. _That shouldn't be hard to_ _find_, he added to himself.

She stilled, her sapphire eyes opened, then narrowed in thought. "I found it," she said.

"The flaw?"

A nod. "It's tiny…but there."

"Can you overwhelm it?"

He only received a _'You doubt me?'_ look in reply; he couldn't help but grin at her confidence. And…she was turning out to be…_fun_, to banter with. Somehow, that realization made him uneasy.

As the sand witch raised her arms and commanded in a dead language of her order for the wall to open, Xerxes slid up to him. "Master unwell?" he whispered, not letting the other magician hear.

"No, I'm all right Xerxes," Mozenrath forced himself to quietly say. His insides were twisting and knotting though; something inside of him…whatever had been trying to wrench itself free before was trying again…something about the sand witch was…_encouraging_ it?

Was it the sand witch?

"Xerxes not believe master," the eel murmured, his face contorted in worry. Mozenrath shook his head.

"No, Xerxes, I'm well; truly. Whatever this is will pass." He was not leaving; he had to know if the Old Palace held any clues they so desperately needed.

Because if they lost to Desdane, feeling…_strange_, would be the least of his concerns.

The air in front of the large wall seemed to bend and twist as the sand witch fought with whatever wards Jafar had placed to guard…whatever it was the wall concealed. The room shook as magic battled magic. Something suddenly felt wrong; Mozenrath took a step back as intuition screamed to—

Duck.

Boom!

A magical explosion launched them all backwards. Mozenrath called out a spell to catch them and thin air snatched him and Xerxes just before they connected to the door.

The tiger he gestured towards, and it was halted before crashing into a long table.

The sand witch was thrown straight into him.

"Oof!"

They wound up sprawled on the floor, Xerxes hovering anxiously over them. Mozenrath groaned, his back and shoulders not appreciating being slammed into the stone flooring. He pried his entwined limbs loose from the sand witch's.

"You were right," he complained, "you are still clumsy."

The sand witch only snorted. "Well, you were fairly warned," she retorted lightly, brushing her fluffy mane out of her eyes and unwinding her arms out of his. Shaking her head to clear it, she lithely rose, and reached down before Mozenrath could react and pulled him up.

_My, but wasn't she strong for such a tiny thing_.

"You don't weigh nearly as much as Aladdin," she remarked, heading back towards the wall—where a dark opening about two meters high and oval shaped yawned at them.

A cool breeze wafted from the opening as the four carefully came to stand before it. Mozenrath feel the old magic thickly emanating from the doorway.

"Clumsy or not," he conceded, "you do deliver results."

The sand witch only smirked; Mozenrath decided it was best to not waste time and made to enter the doorway.

A small hand shot out and clamped onto his wrist. He jolted in surprise and turned.

He gave the sand witch a questioning look; why had she stopped him.

And why was she leveling such a…suspicious glare at the doorway.

She twisted her scarlet lips. "When picking the lock is too easy," she recited, "expect a trap."

"You call what you just did easy?!"

"Compared to other times…yes."

She tugged on his wrist until he was standing beside her again. With her other hand, she summoned a golden paperweight from a dark wood table just behind her. She tossed it at the doorway.

It shattered, struck by an ethereal 'net' of bluish magic that filled the opening suddenly.

The magic dissipated with an unearthly hiss, having done its ugly work.

Mozenrath felt a chill; how had he not sensed it?

"If anyone would try to enter," the sand witch commented, probably reading his face, "it would be a magician, right?"

"Indeed," he replied.

"We must need something of Jafar's for you then," the other magician said, her voice business again; she glanced around the high-ceilinged chamber. "Guys, find something of Jafar's Mozenrath can wear."

"And what of you?"

A shrug. "I'm a sand witch, plus I beat the wards; it'll _have_ to let _me_ in."

Mozenrath sighed. "Of course," was all he said. He despised this feeling, of being deadweight. He had never felt as such…and the fact that Jafar, some upstart imposter-pretend-wizard was the one to make him feel so….

How fortunate the old man was that he was dead.

"What this? What this?" Xerxes' voice jarred him back to the present. He turned; his eel was at a long table near the wall perpendicular the door and opening. On it sat an hour glass, with some sort of…pedaling device?

Far too small for a man…ah, of course, the parrot operated it. Mozenrath followed the sand witch who came to the—otherwise empty table?

What had his servant discovered?

Sadira came to stand beside Xerxes. "And what did you find, you clever boy?"

Mozenrath could have sworn Xerxes blushed. His eyes met the ceiling.

"Invisible, invisible," the eel insisted, pushing…something along the table with his nose. It sounded like some kind of metal as it scraped against the wood grain.

Sadira picked it up. Running her finger over it, Mozenrath noted it was small, and round.

"It feels like a ring," she mused aloud. "I can feel sand witch magic on it."

With a word, she commanded the ring to show itself. Jafar's spell fell away in a burst of white-silver light shards. Mozenrath couldn't believe his eyes.

"The mystic blue diamond?!" he blurted out.

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"How do you know about this ring?" Sadira asked, clearly confused.

Mozenrath shrugged. "I read what little of the sand witches there was in the libraries. There was an engraving of this relic…it was worn by the Inheritor I believe it said—" the sand witch nodded in affirmation—"usually the Crown Princess, the Queen's firstborn. But, I had heard it became part of Agrabah's Royal Jewels…typically it was worn by the sultan."

"I wonder why Jafar had it," the sand witch pondered aloud. But, she shrugged, as if deciding it wasn't important and took Mozenrath's flesh hand before he could react. She slipped the ring onto his hand and took it. "Let's go."

Mozenrath could only blink at her brazenness. She hadn't seemed this…free about touching the others. It was slightly awkward; the wizard was hardly accustomed to so much…_contact_, with others. He reminded himself it was only the sand witch, and she was being sensible after all; if her assumption of having an item of Jafar's proved wrong…he'd be in a bit of trouble—unless the sand witch was touching him, then the wards would leave him alone.

It just felt strange…her soft little hand clutching his.

He told himself on some level he should be flattered that she didn't want to see him get vaporized.

He held back the snicker.

As the sand witch passed through the breezy opening, Xerxes pulled on his robe. "Xerxes wanna come; Xerxes wanna stay with master."

Rajah rumbled a complaint too at being left behind.

Mozenrath petted the eel's head. "I need you to keep watch, Xerxes," he said, "if something goes awry, you'll need to tell the others."

"He's right, Xerxes," the sand witch emphasized, though benignly, "besides, we need you and Rajah to finish searching the rooms for clues. You were the one that found the ring after all; not us. If anyone can find more, it's the two of you."

Mozenrath kept his face somber, even as her less than airtight logic made him want to grin. He couldn't disapprove her attempts to not hurt their feelings.

The tiger made a noise of defeat, Xerxes looked sullen, slouching in the air.

"All right," the eel mumbled dejectedly, "we try find."

Mozenrath stroked his head again. "Thank you, Xerxes, we'll return soon."

The sand witch gave them both a little wave goodbye and she and Mozenrath disappeared into the ominous doorway.

"Xerxes find something before tiger," the eel suddenly challenged the big cat, which looked at the eel with gleaming eyes, saying so much: _Game on._

They raced to opposite corners of the huge room and scoured in earnest.

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The tall doorway led to catacombs more immense than any chambers Mozenrath had ever beheld. He and the sand witch were but tiny specks amidst a cavernous antechamber built of dark navy-black stone. It seemed to be naturally weathered, and a long staircase built into the wall he and the other magician had entered through led them down a steep path to…someplace.

Only murky darkness met their eyes as they tread steadfastly down the stone steps, their feet echoing off the mind-numbingly high ceilings and far off walls.

"Such a place," Mozenrath whispered, "how vast do you suppose this palace to be?"

"It takes up the entire city," the sand witch replied, her tone muted, "I saw it rise once."

Mozenrath gave her a startled gaze by way of question. She sighed, resigned, and proceeded to fill him in on how she had made her fateful pot of soup, which she dumped after turning Iago into an hour glass (Mozenrath snickered at that), and it turned out to possess inter-dimensional properties…and opened a gateway which allowed three sand witches to return to Agrabah.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," the magician said at the end in self-defense, "it was an accident."

Mozenrath let himself come to terms with the story he just heard as they stepped into the gloom and the sand witch conjured an orb of light about the size of her fist to illuminate the way. Its light wasn't piercing, only bright enough to make their path clear without glaring the eyes.

"You could have ruled Agrabah with them," the wizard pointed out, not sure if she realized the opportunity she had forfeited in the name of 'friendship,' "you would have been queen one day for certain."

"I don't care about ruling," the sand witch firmly replied, as if that should have been obvious.

"You don't care about ruling," Mozenrath repeated, his voice disapproving, "you don't care about gold; what do you care about?"

The sand witch didn't miss a beat. "My friends."

Mozenrath sighed in annoyance. "You clearly have great power," he sharply began and was met with her astonished face, "yes," he affirmed, as they came to a stop, "do you have any idea how much magic most mages must deplete themselves of to open an inter-dimensional portal?"

"Quite a bit," she put in.

Mozenrath thought of the Onyx Gate and how he'd drained himself to open it—only to be thwarted by Desdane. "Exactly; I wish I could 'accidently' open gates—and clearly you weren't at all wearied by it; you would have suspected what you'd unwittingly done otherwise—" the sand witch nodded concession to that—" and yet, here you are; you have power, skill, intelligence—"

The sand witch blinked, not expecting him to admit as much. He sighed, frustration swelling up within him.

"_You could have anything_," he pointed out, his voice stony, "and yet here you are, living in a ruin, wearing rags, and at the beck and call of the _street rat_ and his bumbling side-kicks; why? For what gain?"

"Because they're my friends," the sand witch argued, "they _care_ about me; in fact, they're the first people in _my entire life_ to care about me. And they did so when I did _nothing_ to deserve it. Far from it, in fact."

With that, she gave him a look that said the discussion was closed, yanked on his arm and they continued on.

Mozenrath had been anticipating her 'argument' of friendship…but the latter he hadn't counted on.

The first to ever care about her? And she _openly professed_ having done nothing to deserve it?

The fluffy-headed magician had steadily been becoming more intriguing to him by the moment; this revelation though…for some reason, _greatly_ piqued his curiosity.

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**A/N: **Ok, I wanted to go on but it's 1am and I open the store tomorrow, so it's time for ZZZZ. Anyhow, enjoy and plz leave a review! Take care


	54. Chapter 54: The River

**A/N: **Well, folks, we're at 7,200 views! OMG! Thanks for all the great reviews I got and comments and questions I promise…the answers are coming. We'll be back to Desdane soon, but first we need to finish Moze and Sadira journey! And…who wins the contest between Rajah and Xerxes! LOL! Anyhow, homework's coming along great; thx for the support on that front too! ONWARD!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 54: The River_

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the landing of the relief-carved stairs- made more unbearable because with each step Mozenrath was all the more anxious to _see_ what awaited them in the deeper chasms of the palace. But, he hadn't expected what appeared from the mist as they left the final step behind:

A river.

He and the sand witch stood at the bank, staring in disbelief as they took in what had to be the…_eeriest_ river Mozenrath had ever encountered. It was the darkest shade of sapphire blue imaginable, practically black and about 25 feet wide; its movement was so deathly silent, had it not been for the sand witch's light orb playing off the water's reflection Mozenrath would have sworn the river was not even in motion.

"Surely its enchanted waters," the wizard softly remarked.

The sand witch nodded. "I can sense it…" she paused, her body movements suddenly startled…and nervous.

"What is it?" Mozenrath asked, turning to her. She had paled, just noticeably; but he perceived the change.

"The water…" the sand witch began, "I…I can hear it…_whispering_."

Mozenrath's attention riveted to the unsettling waters; he took the girl's arm and pulled her a few steps away.

"The River is aware?"

She nodded. "It's _telling_ someone we're here."

And then he heard it: the sound of _something_ rippling the ominous waters, and of…wood creaking?

He led the sand witch farther away and summoned his magic; it rippled navy fire around his fist. She felt him grip his wrist.

"No—" she insisted.

"If it means to attack us—"

"It doesn't…I don't sense any danger—"

"That doesn't mean…." But he trailed off as the source of the noises parted out of the mist:

A boat…and ferryman.

Mozenrath couldn't withhold the jolt of surprise.

The boat itself was simple, aged wood, low to the water, and about 6 feet long…but that's not what threw him off; it was the boatman.

He was skeletal…_all _of him.

Mozenrath gulped, forcing back a sudden vertigo as the sand witch approached the…man? Creature? And spoke to him…it quietly.

The…_being_ was garbed in a tattered, worn robe with hood that was surely once black…but had greyed with the passage surely of many ages; the wizard caught bone limbs, neck and…its unconcealed face. Its ungloved hands clutched a long pole of equally darkened wood, no doubt for steerage, as it nodded in reply to the sand witch's words.

Ah; it couldn't speak then.

Mozenrath ruthlessly pushed down the surge of…unease struggling to seize him and drew near to the sand witch; he ignored his sudden wish that he'd allowed Xerxes to accompany them. He felt more…raw, without the eel beside him—at least he did _now_.

"…do you know the way to the most important parts of the palace?" he overheard the girl inquire as he stopped beside her.

It nodded.

"The Royal Chambers? The War Room?"

Another nod.

"Fantastic," the sand witch gleefully said, clapping her hands together, and made to get in the boat; Mozenrath eyed the driver suspiciously for a moment, but sensed no danger…so followed the sand witch. The ferryman pushed off with the long pole and Mozenrath felt the very minute shifting in the old vessel as it was caught by a very gentle undercurrent.

"His name is Karonon. He's the Royal Ferryman for the old empire." She gave the wizard a glance, but then scrutinized their surroundings. "I have scrolls about him in one of my ruins."

Mozenrath took in the high-ceilinged tunnel they had entered. Arch-shaped and with a wide bank on their right side, though none on the left, it only possessed a few carvings into the navy-stone walls; the sand witch's orb continued to offer the only real light. There were no visual distractions, no clues as yet…and it was increasingly difficult to not focus on the skeletal being that steered the boat, standing at its fore, bone limbs reflecting the orb's light.

He turned away, taking in the inscrutable waters; he hated it…this reacting, this feeling of…vulnerability. It had been so long, so many years since he had felt so…or had truly felt anything for that matter.

Fate and irony; if only magic existed capable of freeing himself from them for all time. He heard the sigh slip out.

"What is it?" the sand witch asked. Her tone was too quiet, too…knowing. Blast it anyways.

He shook his head. "Nothing of import."

"I doubt someone like you wastes his time thinking about unimportant things."

Spells; her glib tongue, how he _wanted_ to find it aggravating, annoying…anything.

Except; he couldn't force himself to feel that way. The dreadful thought occurred to him that perhaps the street rat's obsessive _goodness _was rubbing off on him.

Magic forbid…. How would he _live _with himself!?

Her slim little hand threaded her fingers lightly between his right hand's.

His _bone hand_.

He made to yank it away, but she tightened her grip.

How could such a _little_ thing be so strong? He had his guesses.

He jerked his attention to her—and curses if her expression wasn't expectant.

Well; enough of this.

"How can this not bother you?" he testily demanded, raising their entwined hands.

She had the audacity to casually shrug. "I'm a healer; I've seen worse."

"Oh? Is that so?" he doubted it—his sharp tone no doubt reflected as much.

She lifted her chin, but something…haunted, shadowed her face. "I was once in Kirzikstan…their capital city caught fire…I assisted their local healers." Her face darkened with a criticizing frown. "You think this—"she shook his arm with her clenched hand—"is bad? Try salving people, whose _entire bodies_ are _mutilated_ with burns; who are so deformed that they can barely walk, or speak…or eat."

Mozenrath was jarred out of the morbid tale by an epiphany. "You used your magic to heal them—to restore their bodies."

She blinked; probably thinking that was obvious. "What was the alternative? Just let them starve to death? Or even if they could eat…let them be deformed forever when I could take that away?"

He couldn't deny it; her compassion was…moving-especially when realization struck again. "You did it in secret; they never knew it was you."

A shake of the head. "Sand witches are still feared…people remember them…and the stories I've heard aren't…flattering."

"Would they have killed you? Even knowing what you had done for them?" he already knew the answer…but still wanted to hear _her_ answer.

Was she _realistic_ as well as compassionate…or just the latter…like the street rat?

"They would have tried," she admitted quietly, not breaking his gaze, "people are controlled often by their fears…they would have assumed I did it for evil reasons; not believing the truth even if I had told them I wanted nothing as payment."

"Because you care neither for gold nor rule," Mozenrath quipped in reminder.

The sand witch only gave him a raised-brow look. "Some of us have better things to do," she bluntly returned, "than keep a throne warm. I've _seen_ the sultan's job; I'd never want it."

"And so you have no family then." It wasn't a question.

The sand witch blinked. "I…I thought you knew that."

He shrugged. "I suspected, but surely had you any kin, you would have been eager to supply a kingdom for their comfort and ease."

She seemed to consider it. "Well, I'd want to take care of them; I'd want them to have the things I didn't have."

"Such as?"

She suddenly seemed sheepish. "Uh…everything?"

It was his turn to frown, in confusion.

"I'm a street mouse," she hesitantly confessed, "or at least I was. I…thought you knew."

Suspicions confirmed.

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**A/N: **I wanted to make this longer, but lost track of the time and I have to get to work. Hope you enjoy! Plz review!


	55. Chapter 55: Illumination

**A/N: **Well, folks; we've passed the 8,000 mark! I'm sooooo excited! Yay! Had a couple questions/remarks about the last few chapters: 1) why are the sand witches still feared? A: I'm going to cover that a few chapters from now, so plz stay tuned for that. 2) Also, Jonathan Brandis, the AMAZING late voice actor who did Mozenrath, was brought up. I am familiar with his work and the tragedy that led to his death. I can only say that it's a great loss that he's no longer with us and I'm very pleased and humbled to be able to bring him back on some level through his character, Mozenrath. Mr. Brandis, you are greatly missed; may you rest in eternal peace.

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 55: Illumination_

"It did seem apparent enough," Mozenrath confessed after a moment, the only sound other than his voice the rippling of the dark water. "You are…" he surprised himself by wanting to sound _tactful_ in his answer, and hesitated a moment before saying, "too…comfortable in your 'working clothes,' as the street rat put them; you openly declare indifference for wealth, rank or power and you are far too…_accustomed_ to the presence of danger. It all points in one direction."

She ran her free hand through her fluffy mane thoughtfully. "And you don't mind?" she eventually asked.

"Mind what?"

"Slumming?" she innocently supplied, brows raised.

He gave her a knowing look; no, he wasn't going to be baited by a ploy so obvious. "I think if you can bear the 'well-behaved evil wizard'—"

She interrupted with a snickering chuckle—

"I'll tolerate the fuzzy-headed mouse-turned-magician."

He was lanced by a poignant stare.

"'Fuzzy-headed'? Who's 'fuzzy headed'?"

Mozenrath wondered if she knew just how funny her annoyed expressions were. Between those twisted lips, wrinkled button nose and fiery eyes, he couldn't keep up the bemused façade any longer.

He pitched forward, laughing too hard to breathe.

Something soft wacked up over the head; caught off-guard, his attention riveted to her, pressing his lips together to suppress his humor.

Where did she get that silk pillow?!

"You went to the trouble of conjuring something just to _hit me with_?" he pressed his flesh fist to his mouth just because the thought made him want to bust up again. A small part of his thoughts were murmuring a reminder that normally that would incite his anger.

Her coy face would have been very _convincing_…except the blazing eyes killed the effect.

"Well," she sweetly said, bouncing the small gold-silk culprit on her one knee, "you should be flattered I'd apply the effort for you." She set it down long enough to pat her little hand against her mouth in a mock yawn, throwing a mischievous side-eyed look at him.

Snarky little mouse; he couldn't _not_ grin at her spit and fire…and the fact that she wasn't scared of him was…curious.

The little mouse was becoming more fascinating by the moment—especially since she was clearly _egging him on._

A million different ideas bombarded him for his attention on how to oblige her—but then the boat jostled.

It shifted hard enough that he reflexively grabbed her arm, which was made all the easier as the boat's motion nearly threw her into him.

"What was that!?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide…now sitting on his lap.

Mozenrath's caught movement in his peripherals; the ferryman was gesturing to them.

"I think our…host can tell us," he deadpanned, pointing.

The skeletal being waved ahead of them, where the river suddenly widened—

Mozenrath had registered belatedly, it seemed, the fact that the water was now _roaring_….

Because the eerie river was ushering them towards…a monolithic _whirlpool_.

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Aladdin had found a quiet corner to pace in as he waited.

He hated waiting…he equated it with doing nothing. And doing nothing meant he wasn't being of use to anyone—or anything.

A little more than an hour till the wedding, and what purpose was he serving!?

Jasmine was getting ready, Genie, Abu and Iago were…who knew where; and Sadira was with Rajah and Xerxes in Jafar's room hopefully finding a way into the Old Palace—

With Mozenrath.

Al rubbed the back of his neck; forcefully reminding himself that the wizard had no reason to betray them, that so long as Desdane was darkening the world with his presence, the younger magician had every incentive for cooperating. And…Aladdin had learned more about him in two days than he had in all the time they'd been rivals.

He had been taken from his family by a wizard.

He had been very young when kidnapped; and had gone unwillingly.

He couldn't help being reminded of Farid and winced at the realization, that one of his worst enemies shared things in common with _his brother_.

Xerxes had said he was probably alive.

Mozenrath had conjured _someone_ in his fire mirror that was related to Aladdin…and was _here_, _now_ in the palace.

Was it Farid?

"What is it, little buddy?"

Aladdin jumped, but relaxed when he saw Genie's large blue hand resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry Genie, I was deep in thoughts."

"Those must have been some thoughts." Translation: no one ever sneaks up on you—which was true enough.

"I…" he put his head down, "I was thinking about my family."

He heard Genie's sigh of sympathy and turned; and sure enough, his friend was wearing a matching expression.

"Al, little buddy, if your family was here, they'd be as proud of you as I am."

Aladdin felt the smile tug at his lips. "That's the thing, Genie, they might be here."

Plunk. Genie's jaw hit the floor…again.

"Uh, Al…what _exactly _did you and the crazy Wiz-kid talk about while we were gone?"

And Al proceeded to fill him in. A few minutes later:

"Well, c'mon kid! Let's go find who it is!"

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"Oh, I forgot about this," was what the sand mouse ended up saying.

Mozenrath felt his shoulders drop out of pure amazement. And then caught himself; this was the sand witch after all…he should know better by now than to be amazed at anything she does.

"Too preoccupied with not caring about gold or rule?" he drawled, and she leveled a scathing look his way.

"Well, there is a way to get passed this…_obstacle_, I hope?" he flatly added.

"Ughhhhh," she said, pushing free of him and fluidly rising, "never fear, _your lordship_, you won't get your precious feet wet." And she made to the fore of the boat, coming to stand beside…their guide.

Mozenrath followed her silently, inwardly grateful that he was less…repulsed, by the boatman.

She surprised him yet again by reaching into her…bodice!? And fished out a long chain; oh, it's a necklace then, the wizard realized. Revealing the full chain, Mozenrath caught the glint of a pale ruby the size of a coin, flawlessly cut, and set in gold filigree.

Grasping the jewel and facing it towards the whirlpool, the sand mouse called out what sounded like a command. Mozenrath felt the boat shudder again beneath his feet, and halted just behind the sand witch. A large stone arch loomed over them; if her…plan didn't work, he'd grab her by the waist and use his magic to leap to that archway overhead.

Suddenly, the wizard heard what sounded very much like a pair of enormous doors opening before them…but he didn't see…?

And then, there they were.

The whirlpool…parted, regally, the wizard noted, and then the water leapt up in front of them in two massive curtains, only to fall majestically back down.

In their wake were a pair of ethereal, translucent doors, ornately carved and easily 70 feet high, filling the archway; shimmering and wavering spectrally, they creaked open, and the river, now bereft of its whirlpool, let them easily glide through.

"It was a…uh, security measure," the sand witch explained at length, glancing back at him, only to be met with a disgruntled glower. "I didn't recall it till the last second."

"Oh, well, just so long as you did eventually," the wizard testily said, "are there any other…'security measures' I should know about?"

A chuckle? The gall of this little sand mouse!

"None come to mind right now," she smoothly retorted, "but I'll let you know if I think of any."

His eyes went to the gloomy ceiling. "My eternal gratitude," he bluntly snarked.

She had the nerve to bat her lashes mock-artlessly at him. "Anything to oblige," she quipped in return, adding what Mozenrath could only label a _naughty_ smile.

She certainly didn't lack for daring…scatter-brained or not.

He caught the tell-tale creak of the intangible doors shutting behind them. He glanced in that direction just in time to see them evaporate into nothing and the river swirl back into its whirlpool form before it.

"Interesting place," he deadpanned, "you sand witches have."

"Oh," she promised, her voice filled with foreknowing, "you haven't even seen interesting yet." She pointed over them; Mozenrath followed her gaze as she peered upwards.

A soft, golden glow began to form around them, illuminating everything. Mozenrath felt his breath catch.

It was…too beautiful to even call it that.

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**A/N: **Well, enjoy folks! More is coming soon. But, I'm starving so it's time for din-din! Plz leave a review! Thanks a billion, again, for the support.


	56. Chapter 56: Shadowalkers

**A/N: **At long last, y'all this chapter has COME! So many of you have been patiently waiting for it! As always, thanks for the reviews, support and reading! Enjoy ONWARD!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 56: Shadowalkers _

The circular, warm-tinted table Desdane recalled all too well; eons ago, he had utilized it to plan his attacks against the wretched Sand Witch Empire, though, after that war _suddenly closed_ as it had-he reigned in the swell of fury-he had of course altered it over time, as the kingdoms surrounding his domain changed royal families, boundaries and so forth.

Pathetic mortals and their fluctuating ways; their lack of congruity—it always spelled their doom.

And in some instances more…_literally_ than others.

The round table portrayed for him every kingdom of the Seven Deserts; each kingdom that would soon fall under his rule, he lifted his obsidian eyes from it-though still turning it slowly with one hand-to take in those who surrounded it.

He only permitted himself a tiny smile; but dearly wished to bare his perfect teeth triumphantly considering the…_magnanimous_ figures that filled the dimly-lit chamber.

"My fellow immortals," he began his voice weighty with the import of the moment, "we are truly partaking of a _glorious_ eve."

He gaze fell on each of the mages, sorcerers, and so forth whose presences all added to the intoxicating headiness of _power_ consuming the stone chamber. Desdane took a deep breath, letting himself savor the moment…and the ultimate culmination he knew it would lead to.

On his immediate right stood Khartoum, his face grim, eyes bright with alertness; he had, for the most part, come around, when he beheld for himself who all had heeded Desdane's petition for a gathering; on his left, Ayam Aghoul stood with folded hands, accompanied by many of his undead entourage-and the large emerald lizard who remained at his side as surely as that _accursed eel_ who never left his betraying apprentice.

But, many others had arrived at the Citadel as well: the winged serpent Malcho, whose large body filled the chamber's far end, the jade wizard Aziz, who once worked with Aladdin; and a throng of powerful dark sorcerers, ghoulish immortals who hungered to re-conquer the mortal realm, and many of Desdane's own host of terrifying monsters.

But, his gaze rested upon one figure in particular relaxing on a long chase-style chair, her back-dropped by her El' Khatib and fire cats in droves…Mirage.

Insolent creature that she was…her golden eyes gleaming wickedly at his words and she of course didn't miss a beat.

"A momentous day indeed, Lord Desdane…," she had the impudence to _yawn_, "but…it would be even more so…should you deign to tell us why we're all _here_."

And while _anyone else_ would have swiftly been dealt a grisly end—Desdane took in the sea of mostly concealed, albeit horrified expressions, clearly awaiting just that—she, of course, kept her gaze spiced with just the right amount of _naughtiness_ and her flawless curves laid for the perfect display on the scarlet lounger…that they both knew she was quite safe.

For now anyways.

They did, after all, share a history…though it was Desdane thought, time to put said history to a close.

He smiled at her, reveling in the imminent blow he was about to deal her…expansive ego.

It would be worth waiting all those thousands of years, he was certain.

"I shall," he replied, his voice silken and placating, "but, we have one more guest who must be present first…a person of…great importance to me." And while most of the company veiled their surprise that the ruler of Morbia wasn't about to have her body parts scattered over the landscape, Mirage had sense enough to narrow her eyes in suspicion.

The next moment, the double doors swung open, and the cat's gaze riveted to them…eager to…scrutinize this 'person of great importance."

"Ah; everyone is arrived, how delightful," came a woman's voice.

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Mirage had lived many long eons, and had laid more traps than she could ever hope to recall.

Though…the best ones she made a point of recalling.

Like her claws…she kept her senses ever sharpened.

And now…with the calculative manner Desdane was eyeing her…oh, she would wager all of her nine lives that he was about to net her into a trap.

She licked her lips in anticipation; she did so _love_ a challenge.

Of course, she and Desdane had been playing this game for thousands of years. Long ago, she had met the sorcerer lord whilst tormenting some humans in a village near the Land of the Black Sand. She had no care for taking down the Sand Witches' Empire…though the prospect did seem entertaining at times; but…when he had the nerve to _destroy_ some of her fire cats as they fed on the hapless villagers' fear—well, it had been game on, so far as she was concerned.

And so, as he warred against the Sand Witch Empire, she made an ongoing retribution of sabotaging his offenses against those mewling sand witches…until he grew tired of it anyways and began hunting her, with a bloodthirsty obsession.

She quietly purred at the memory…he had been so much…_fun_, wound up in a homicidal rampage. It only spurred her on to antagonize him until he had one day captured her—after a singularly ferocious duel; she had been forced to exert _effort_!

Of course, their battle had leveled most of his kingdom in the process—and large sections of the surrounding Empire…but buildings could be replaced; a mere detail.

And for the first time in how many millennia…she had been _exhausted_ from battle…and then _captured_.

She had never been captured before…how…amusing it had proven.

Of course her magic had hastily replenished itself…she had lived too long for her powers to be depleted for more than a few hours—by mortal determining; but, it had been long enough.

Desdane had decided to enjoy his revenge very slowly, but, during their prolonged rivalry a mutual…respect had grown between them, one adept to another; apparently neither of them had realized a…_spark_ had kindled from it. That became apparent after her capture though….

She had feigned her magic being dormant for a while after it had fully mended itself…it had been worth it.

She snickered at the memories that danced before her mind's eye.

But, as the doors swung open and their 'final guest' strode in, Mirage's temper darkened.

Ah; so here is the 'trap.' My, how…disappointing.

It was a woman who entered; not human, she smelled wrong for that. She smelled…aquatic.

Oh; an Elemental.

An _Elemental!?_

Mirage felt her ire explode within…but her elegant face she kept tightly fixed in a mask of neutrality.

So…it seemed that Desdane was still sore about being spurned by her some ages ago.

"Did I miss anything important?" the Elemental asked in a mock-sweet tone; she came to stand beside Desdane as if she owned him…upstart little thing she was apparently. She laced her arm through the sorcerer's, and offered a smug grin to everyone else in the chamber.

Desdane only straightened to his full, menacing height, not even bothering to glance at Mirage; they both knew she got the message:

_You've been replaced…get used to it_.

Mirage held back the snicker; such a pity. In the end, the sorcerer proved guilty of a short memory—unpardonable for an immortal.

He had forgotten, it seemed, what happened the _last time_ he had dared cross her…and she had been lax in ensuring he never forgot who—and what—she was.

She only grinned at the ivory-skinned immortal who dared to smirk at her…no little mermaid would replace a cat.

The poor little fish hadn't been told obviously: cats eat fish.

Mirage leaned back, and made herself extra comfortable.

This would be far more interesting than she had imagined.

She stroked one of her El' Khatib's heads as Desdane revealed his latest bit genius.

She looked forward to it; as he had just revealed his last bit of _idiocy_.

She let herself chuckle, but only for a moment.

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Now that one…_matter_ had been attended to, Desdane drew himself up and turned to the next.

He had caught the play of emotion-_almost _brilliantly hidden-from Morbia's ruler; she was no doubt rankled by Saleen. Good; after he conquered the Seven Deserts, he would need something to pass the time…when the lovely creature beside him wasn't monopolizing it of course.

"It seems fellow mages," he imperiously began, "that during my…brief respite…we have all acquired a new enemy. I doubt it necessary to mention his name…," he watched fury smother the countenances of those who had directly faced this…Aladdin, and the angst of those who had heard of him, "the kingdom of Agrabah's hero-whelp has been a thorn to many of us…but he has only faced us as individual foes…never joined together."

He saw realization of his upcoming offer click in many of their faces.

He didn't withhold the malicious grin. "Indeed; this would-be champion has merely faced us one-on-one…but never as one, _monolithic_ force of evil." He gestured, taking them all in. "Look around you, fellow immortals…," he watched the heads turning about, "look who all you stand in the presence of. I ask you: could any low-born child defeat such a host?"

Dark, menacing looks taking in the full import of his question dominated the chamber.

"And so I ask: which of you wishes to take part in the overthrow of this brat…and the subjugation of the Seven Deserts? It will be an interesting spring board to begin with, after all."

"Spring board?" Khartoum cut in, "What do you mean, 'spring board'?"

Desdane only favored him with an icy smile. "My dear Khartoum," he expectantly returned, "did you think we would only be satisfied with _one_ world…when there are infinite worlds out there? After all, once _every realm_ in existence is ours…there will be plenty of domains to go around."

Mirage only snorted at the display of ambition; nay, blind avarice that was pervading the chamber. "I already have my own domain," she bluntly retorted, cutting through the sea of anticipation around her, and Desdane leveled her a threatening glare—to which she only smiled at, "but…I'll be happy with a few new El' Khatib…only, say, _several thousand_."

After all, she'll need them for the future…'_games_' she was already planning for Desdane.

Desdane only offered her a knowing look and: "But of course, my dear; I should have known you can't be troubled by…other realms."

"Besides what they possess that I may torment, no," was the clipped reply.

"I am with Lady Mirage," Aghoul suddenly put in, "I have the Nether realm now; but…I will take my share of the prizes after we are triumphant."

"And that would be?" Desdane inquired.

"Agrabah's princess, she was my betrothed once-until that boy interfered. When the war is over, there'll be plenty of new dead for me to rule over as it is." He grinned and rubbed his hands together delightedly.

Desdane didn't see it, but he felt Saleen roll her eyes. He couldn't agree more.

Oh well; all the more remaining for those with vision enough to see it.

"Very well, Aghoul; the princess it is, plus the added dead."

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Some people were so easily satisfied…it was _pitiful_.

Joining a dark alliance like no other in history? Conquest of every world in existence? And then only wanting dead people and that _waif_ of a princess?! Please!

Saleen patted her hand against her full lips in a yawn. "I have the sea—" _and you should all be_ _soooo envious!_—"but…that doesn't mean I won't have time to rule _every other sea_, in every other world as well."

Land life was so…boring, after all; aside from the occasional shipwrecked sailor anyways.

"But," she added coyly, "I still get first dib's on your apprentice."

Desdane only chuckled at that. "After I make the boy immortal, my dear, you'll have all eternity to play with him. Revenge should never be hurried."

Saleen giggled, feeling the electric tingle of imminent vengeance. Her new…_interest_ certainly didn't lack imagination…which made land life far more interesting than normal…at least when Desdane was around.

But…as the Black Sand Lord moved to the Gilt Mirror, declaring everyone would have their desires fulfilled once the war was finished, Saleen reflected for a moment on how she had…time in the Black Sand's Otherworld to make some realizations of her own.

The fact was, poor Aladdin couldn't hold a torch to Desdane…or his sharp-tongued apprentice. True, Aladdin was handsome, but he didn't have magic…and frankly, playing with him was no longer fun since she realized she was battling that insufferable genie more than the street rat. And really, the Siren of the Seven Seas chasing after a vagrant boy rather than a sorcerer such as Desdane-what had she been thinking!?

But, of course the added advantage was…she got two magicians instead of one.

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**A/N: **Thanks again for waiting; for all of you asking me when this one was coming…I hope it meets your expectations…this is of course FAR from the last chapter with Desdane…but let me know what you think Till later!


	57. Chapter 57: Vendetta

**A/N: **We're almost at 8,200 readers y'all! Wow! Just wow!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 57: Vendetta _

Mozenrath took in the massive domed ceiling above them as golden light—apparently coming from nowhere, there was do direction to it; it was simply there—and felt his breath catch.

"Wow," the sand witch breathed; he couldn't agree more.

It was far more intricate…and gorgeous than any architectural feat he had beheld before. The size and scope of it was paramount enough, far outdoing the ceiling of the sultan's throne room five times over. It was overlaid with the finest gold, glimmering like a sun; jewels of every kind adorned it abundantly; and the carvings and moldings were done in turquoise, ivory, lapis and jade.

It seemed to tell a story; Mozenrath could discern creatures of many kinds…sand witch monsters were all cast in gold, but there were others.

A dog-like creature made of lapis, turquoise and probably what was lavender jade caught his eye.

Sirocco: the wind jackal that once dwelt in the darkest and most dangerous corner of his kingdom—who answered to _his_ voice alone…or a convincing facsimile of it.

Now…who knew where—thanks to that blasted _parrot_.

He really should use the Mamlock Stone on the bird one day; he more than deserved it.

"What do you suppose that bluish dog is?" the sand witch asked distractedly.

With a resigned sigh, he told her; beginning with his discovery of Sirocco's existence in a tome he found buried in one of the Citadel's libraries, his search and 'purchase' of the jackal, the street rat's almost theft of him, and finally his attempt to destroy Agrabah, till the wretched bird interfered.

He saw no reason to edit what had happened; she could find out readily enough from the 'heroes' anyhow, far better he tell her…at least then Aladdin and his deplorable honesty wouldn't be causing Mozenrath any headaches at the worst possible moment.

Not that Aladdin ever did that to him—the wizard sighed again—but best have all possibilities covered.

"So, you went to all that trouble to get a wind jackal just to destroy Agrabah?" the sand witch asked in muted disbelief, "After all the jabs and prodding I saw upstairs? You can't stand any of my friends." It was a question.

Mozenrath wanted to face-palm, but his head was already being…disagreeable, and so, he pushed the thought aside.

"Well," he deadpanned, "I'll confess I'm something of a _traditionalist_. You see, when I set out to destroy my enemies…I prefer to use a weapon that will _destroy my enemies_. Prods and jabs simply don't do that."

The flat '_really?_' stare thrown at him was priceless.

"You know what I mean," she droned, "wizards like you typically only go out of their way like that to destroy an enemy they _respect_ on some level. You could have just used all _your_ magic and saved yourself the trouble. Unless you're some sort of overachiever…." She trailed off and appraised him more thoroughly. "Yep; you're too overachiever to be even called that. Forget I asked."

The snicker slipped out before he could stop it. "You're too kind."

"I try—" the boat suddenly jostled again and Mozenrath caught the sand mouse before she stumbled straight into the water.

"Phew," she let out, as he sat them both back down, "boy, am I glad you have quick reflexes." She patted his chest in thanks and Mozenrath was too startled by the action to react. "I'm taking you on all of my explorations."

Eyes rose to the ceiling again; but not to take in the grandeur. "Yes; because if we survive this, I'll have nothing better to do with my time."

"Fine; I'll just persuade Xerxes, and then he can talk you into it."

A sputter. "Your cooking won't be incentive enough."

"Well," she threw her arms down in frustration, "what do you do with your time that's so important anyways? Living with a bunch of undead people would lose its appeal for me real fast. How do you stand the smell?"

He couldn't withhold the laughter at such a random question. "They don't smell; they're enchanted."

"You call being undead 'enchanted'? I'd call it gross."

"Well, lucky for you you're not undead then."

The sand witch only let her tongue hang out for a second in a 'oh, yuck,' gesture. "Wow; I guess I really do have a better life than you then."

"_What_ did you just say?"

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Saleen let herself chuckle softly as Desdane drew near to the foreboding Gilt Mirror. It did have a…presence to it; no doubt due to the powerful magic imbued over it to fuel its unmatchable searching abilities.

What terrible fun this was proving to be! Who knew that being cast into that icky Otherworld would lead to such a turn of events? Going from plucking black goo from her fabulous hair to taking part in the takeover of entire worlds!

But, far better, the delicious…intrigue that had exploded between her and the dark sorcerer. Desdane had revealed himself to be a hundred million times the superior of any sailor or other fancy that had perked Saleen's notice over the millennia.

Though; it would hardly end there. While Aladdin was yesterday's news…Saleen had come to realize that the apprentice held potential to be an entertaining pursuit also. After all, he had so much to offer that Aladdin didn't: he was clearly high-born, with his elegance, poise and eloquence; and while both he and Aladdin were handsome, Mozenrath had an exotic flare to him, with his alabaster skin starkly contrasting those obsidian curls. He had the added allure of being a ruler…and best of all: he had magic.

A formidable amount of it too; which meant, he didn't need to hide behind a genie to fight back.

Saleen held back the naughty giggle. It was always so much more fun when they could battle for themselves; when they capitulated quickly and easily-how unbearably _boring_!

The siren was jostled from her thoughts by Desdane commanding the Mirror to show them—the Realm of Mists?

Why would he wish to see that hideous place?

And then, as the dark and dreary dimension came into view, she saw them: three women—ugh, not exactly beautiful…but she reminded herself human women could never hope to match her singular attractiveness. Desdane greeted them.

"Well, Shakata, how very long it's been. I see you've made some interesting accommodations of late. How is the Realm of Mists?"

She chuckled at how pleasant his tone was. The tallest of the three women snarled at him in response.

"Lord Desdane…it's not been…_nearly_ long enough. But, how very pleased I am to see you…survived, as well that is. It's all the more incentive to liberate ourselves from this wretched place. We yet have unfinished business with you." Her tone was glacial.

The two shorter, plumper women behind her murmured with dark chuckles in agreement.

Desdane only folded his arms with a disparaging grin. "My dear Shakata, but don't you see? That's the very reason I have sought you out after sensing you in that…_stimulating_ place. He gestured behind him to the assembled immortals and proceeded to bring her up to speed on his survival, taking an apprentice who he allowed to turn on him and his gathering of the mages behind him to destroy their mutual enemy, the boy from Agrabah called Aladdin."

That last part piqued Shakata's interest. "Agrabah you say?"

Desdane nodded. "I assume you've been there? Did you encounter the boy? I have seen him in the company of a genie, a flying carpet and a dark-haired princess."

Saleen noticed the glimmer of recognition in her eyes. "Indeed; upon our return, the boy helped one of our own betray us." Her voice was a venomous hiss.

Desdane's face darkened…Saleen thought in recollection. "Betrayed by your own? A fellow sand witch? Was she young, a recent convert?" His voice was too knowing, Saleen thought.

Shakata discerned it too. "You've met her, the girl Sadira."

"Is that her name?"

Shakata nodded, her eyes blazing imperiously. "Our Empire is no more Desdane; you have no doubt seen this. Why then, seek us out?"

Not one for wasting time, Saleen saw with approval-and surely was already guessing why the sorcerer had scoured the realms for them.

Desdane only smiled at her forwardness. "It seems that time continues to reveal it's an extraordinary thing, Shakata," he began, his fingers steepled in thought, "eons ago, we were the deadliest of foes…but now…you are right. Your Empire is no more, and your Order is but four."

"Three; we don't look upon traitors as one of us."

"Three then; however, the betrayer has also stirred up my wrath…and so it seems we have a common nemesis. In light of that, I would like to ask you to join us."

Shakata's purple-rimmed eyes widened; behind her though, the two who looked to be twins, with their pointed teeth and round faces, eyed him suspiciously.

"You make very free with your offers, Lord Desdane," Shakata smoothly replied, her rich, cultured voice slick with distrust.

Desdane only waved their misgivings away. "The ages have changed this world Shakata and our circumstances as well. We plan to overthrow and rule every kingdom in every world that is…in the face of that, I believe you and I can find realms enough for us to build our mutual empires upon, don't you agree?"

The thin sand witch eyed him frigidly, but after a moment, nodded. "The ages have changed much, as you say," her tone said: _but that doesn't mean_ you've _changed_, "and our vendetta now is against the girl Sadira. Release us from this place, and we will join your company."

Saleen grinned as Desdane regally waved at the mirror, which seemed to shiver and the perimeter glimmered and opal color. The three witches strode majestically out.

Shakata waved at the twins. "You recall Razili and Farida?"

"Indeed I do," Desdane replied, his tone and stance stately; he gestured for them to mingle among the other mages, which they did, their eyes clearly absorbing all.

Desdane turned, somehow making it a grand motion, and addressed them all. "And now, my fellow mages, for our…final guest." He slipped one hand into a discreet pocket of his dark robe and pulled out…a black lamp.

A genie's lamp. Saleen's turquoise eyes widened gleefully. Oh; a genie to go against Aladdin's pet genie? How splendid!

Desdane rubbed the lamp on one side. Red smoke billowed from its spout.

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**A/N: **Well folks, things are really coming together! Plz let me know what you think! Till next time!


	58. Chapter 58: Renown & Resurrection

**A/N: **Hey y'all; I hope you're enjoying. We are now over 9,300 views! Yeeaaah! FYI, the last chapter w/ the three sand witches I do want to remind everyone is a nod to the episode "Witch Way did She Go?" where Sadira lets the three loose w/o knowing it. Also, thanks all to have reviewed thus far and are happy with the 'Desdane' chapter! It means a lot! I've been getting questions over 'who is Sadira?' In other words: what is her lineage? I promise, that will be revealed later in the story; I will warn you though, it's gonna be in towards the end, so bear with me plz in other news, in response to lizathon and Jessenia: Yes. I. Did. There's no point in writing if you don't pull out all the stops; and let's face it: Jafar's gonna be fun to have in this fic…at least I think so. And how he is brought back to life will of course be explained. Now, let's get back to it! ONWARD!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 58: Renown & Resurrection _

The enormous chamber shook as the scarlet smoke and light coalesced over Desdane and those who stood with him. Saleen only watched with feigned disinterest as it took the form of an absurdly well-muscled genie with black hair and yellow eyes.

He stretched and his voice boomed as he spoke: "Ah! I am restored! At last!" He took in the chamber, clearly bewildered as to where he was…until his eyes came to rest on Desdane.

"You!" he exclaimed, his frightening voice thunderous with disbelief. Clawed hands gestured towards his onyx colored lamp. "You resurrected me!? _How!?_"

"Good evening, Jafar," Desdane pleasantly replied, patting Saleen's hand as she re-threaded it through his arm. "It's so pleasing to meet you in person at last."

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Aladdin and Genie found a stray couch to inelegantly flop on from weariness.

"Al, buddy, you can't be tired until after you're married," Genie reminded him, poofing cups of coffee for them both, and then seemed to reconsider his words. "Well…what I meant was, you can't be tired after your wedding either; be tired tomorrow. Ya know, cause after you're married, uhhhh…."

Al chuckled at what he was trying to say…then his face fell when he realized that was the closest he ever came to getting "the talk" from any father figure in his life.

"We've talked to nearly every guest," he despondently said instead.

"I know, Al, but…are you really sure that ol' Moze was being on the up and up with you?" He shrugged helplessly, "I mean, since when does Wiz-kid do anything for free? I didn't even know he knew _how_ to do that."

Al sighed, and took a long draught of coffee, actually liking the bitterness of it; it'd keep him awake. "That's just it Genie, he did do it selfishly. I had implied he wasn't ready to do magic yet, and it stuck at his pride. He did it to prove me wrong. I could tell by his face he didn't expect to find anyone anyways." Now it was his turn to shrug. "I didn't expect to either, to be honest."

"Well, Al, let's take a break and if you feel up to it, we can do a little more asking around. But, don't forget, after the wedding—"

"I know Genie, I know…."

"No, I mean, I was gonna remind you of the big party. We'll have lots of time to talk to people then."

"Oh…right. That too."

Before emptying his cup, Aladdin thought to himself that he hoped Sadira and Mozenrath were having more success.

And he tried to keep his excitement and impatience reigned in; if family was here, he would find them.

For some reason, he kept thinking of Farid, and found his gaze sweeping the crowd over and over. He sighed; he didn't know if it was Farid…but what if it was? Or his father? His father would be easy to spot; he recalled his mom saying once that Aladdin looked just like him, where Farid had some of their father's features, but their mom's eyes, lips, and curls.

Aladdin set his cup down, reminding himself of what Farid looked like: he remembered the dark eyes, the jet-black curls; he had the same nose as Aladdin, and similar face structure…maybe just a slightly more slender face, and was tall for his age.

He recalled that Farid's skin was a shade darker copper than his too. He would sit outside a lot and read…then often lose track of the time and burn himself because he wouldn't read in the shade.

"But I _like_ the sun," he would complain to their parents when they'd salve his burns and rebuke his carelessness. "I wish it was always day time."

Aladdin found himself seized by a new memory as he stood: he recalled Farid growing afraid of the dark just before he disappeared. He had always preferred day over the night…but hadn't _feared_ the dark until a month or two before being taken. And he had refused to say why.

Now Aladdin couldn't help but wonder _what_ had caused that fear to manifest in his brother.

The red-eyed shadow came to mind.

Or perhaps: _who_.

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The impudent sand mouse continued to amaze him. Not only did she have the gall to declare her life superior to his own-but then went even further to act as though it ought to be obvious!

Now, he regretted not letting her fall in the water; it might have cleared her head.

"That fluffy mane I think is suffocating your ability to think," he found himself saying instead.

And the silk pillow returned to whack him again. This time though, he snatched it from her.

"Hey! Give that back."

"Oh, I'll let you have it," he coolly admonished.

The sand mouse had the audacity to chuckle and while Mozenrath admitted to himself that he didn't mind the sound of it, that wasn't the point. But the Ferryman interrupted, rapping his pole against the side of the boat to get their attention. He pointed forward. The pair followed his gaze. The boat was carrying them through a dark tunnel that suddenly shrank in height.

"We must be nearing the Royal chambers," Mozenrath deduced, "they usually made the halls small to thwart invasion attempts, didn't they?"

Sadira nodded as they were forced to sit back down.

The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation; it made Mozenrath fidgety. He hated waiting for anything; not when he was so accustomed to being always in perfect control, wielding full power over his lands and pursuits—at least until Aladdin arrived to interfere; curse him anyways.

Except, it was now _harder _to feel that way towards the infernal street rat considering he essentially owed the 'hero' his life.

Suddenly, it wasn't the sand mouse Mozenrath wanted to throw in the water, but himself. Perhaps he'd drown and escape the indignity of it all; he could only hope.

His mouth abruptly dried and his throat tightened enough that it was a labor to breathe. He grasped for distraction.

"Just how much of the Old Palace have you seen?" he asked.

He kept his gaze fixed on the boat's interior around his boots. The smaller corridor was darker anyways, as the sand mouse's mage light had vanished and she didn't summon a replacement. But, he wondered for a moment when she didn't immediately answer.

In his peripherals he caught the small shrug. "About a third, I'd guess. I've lived in different parts of the palace for a couple years now," another pause, "but, every time I see a new section, it's still…amazing to me." He heard a wondering sigh. "It's so vast and beautiful. I'm still astonished at it every time like I've never seen any part of it before then." She let out a thoughtful breath and glanced down, "I still think it's incredible I stumbled on all of this by accident. You'd never guess it, would you?"

Mozenrath blinked out of his numbed state. "Accident? Truly? But, how?"

Sadira proceeded to tell him.

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"How were you able to resurrect me? What magic did you call upon?"

Desdane had the impudence to sigh at that. Curse him! Didn't he realize that Jafar was now an _all-powerful genie_? That the very cosmos bent the knee to his might now? That the universe trembled over his very existence?!

The impudence!

"My dear Jafar," the sorcerer carelessly said, "surely an omnipotent genie such as yourself is aware that the planets are currently turning to and fro in a very rare…_dance_, for the next seven days or so? Did you not think a sorcerer of my renown would be more than capable of bringing such powers beneath my heel? Resurrecting you was a small matter for one such as myself."

Jafar ground his pointed teeth. "You make too much of yourself, sorcerer; you forget that _my_ powers are now tremendously superior to you own."

And he had always known it would come to pass one day; that he'd never have to steer clear of any other magic-worker ever again. No, now all would steer clear of _him_.

Desdane surprised everyone by laughing. "Indeed? Is that how you see it?" He actually 'tutted' the genie and Jafar awakened his magic, wrathful. It rippled like citrine fire and lighting around his black, talon-like fingers.

"Ah, Jafar," Desdane said with light humor, "apparently your scope of vision has not increased with you magic…as I suspected it would be—"

Saleen chuckled. The scarlet genie impaled her with a death glare…she yawned, barely noticing.

-"the fact is, my boy: you are _my_ genie. I restored you with the Alignment, and I summoned you up from your lamp…so, in all actuality: _your_ magic is in fact _my_ magic." He smirked at Jafar triumphantly. "Does that clear things up, per chance?"

Jafar bared his teeth. He couldn't kill the old immortal; both because he was also immortal and that blasted genie code forbade it anyways.

But…there was so much a man could live through.

He promised himself he'd make this far more enjoyable than he had with Abys Mal.

And the best part was; he had a vast magical audience. They'd see for themselves what it meant to anger him; or to imply _ownership_ of him.

They'd all see.

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**A/N: **Well, I hope you all liked; yes, I'm cliff hanging you again! Lol….*cue maniacal laugh.* But, plz enjoy and leave a review! More coming soon!


	59. Chapter 59: Forgiveness

**A/N: **Well all, we're nearly at 9,400 views! Ya know, I never dreamed this story would get the support it would/has. You are all uber-epic, thanks again a billion % for supporting. I wish I could thank you all in person And special thanks to everyone who gave me feedback on my Jafar delivery; I was hoping it would be on. ¡Gracias!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 59: Forgiveness_

"You know," Mozenrath heard himself say, his mind registering how weary his tone was, "you're right: your life has been superior to mine."

Even in the dark, the sand mouse's amazed stare was blatant.

He shrugged, suddenly aching with fatigue; even his bone arm throbbed. "It's true. You _accidently_ fall into a cavern which turns out to be part of the Old Palace. You seem to have little difficulty in teaching yourself the spells, which can only mean you carry vast latent talents. You literally _run into_ people who are only too eager to become your allies and friends, and you discover by happenstance you wield great magic for opening inter-dimensional gates. And relics seem only too happy to oblige your whims." He was relieved his voice sounded tiredly ironic instead of bitter—because that's what was filling him inside: bitterness and envy. She had literally led a charmed life…if only he had been _a fraction_ so fortunate.

But, confound her anyways; she only huffed at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Yes," she dryly said, "because living in squalor, stealing for food and basic supplies and dodging the guards just to _exist_ were so much fun that I reveled in every moment of it." She leveled him that 'really?' expression again.

Mozenrath derisively snorted at her. "That's your own fault," he practically snarled, but kept his eyes forward. It was getting too easy to take in her comically bushy mane only to feel his anger melt away. He didn't understand his reaction to her more…endearing features—and despised the fact that he found anything about the street mouse _endearing_—but it _was _there and he had to deal with it.

As if he hadn't enough to deal with _already_.

"You could have dealt out your revenge," he reminded her with causticity, "you could level all of Agrabah; or, you could take back the Sand Witch Empire and rule. But, no," and his tone twisted into a mocking sneer, "instead, you help them; you _serve_ them and you travel around like some common vagrant to other kingdoms doing likewise. With all your gifts, you could have _anything_ in the world, you could live a life that would be deemed legendary, _glorious _even; instead you choose this lowly existence." He gestured fiercely. "Why? For what?" he was practically shouting at her. "I don't understand your backwards thinking."

He was caught off guard by her _patting his hand_—his bone hand. "I know you don't," she gently told him. He made the mistake of locking her gaze only to be met with compassion exuding from those sapphire eyes. It sliced through him like the sharpest blades. He wanted to wrench his hand away; he could feel the boiling rage battling to seize hold of him…but failing. Sour gall rose in the back of his throat. Guilt faced down anger—and _won_.

What was wrong with him? What was wrong with _her?!_

_It was all wrong_; he had verbally torn into her. She should be retaliating, lashing out in return—but instead only responded to him with kindness.

_Was everyone in this kingdom completely insane!? _

He swallowed as a truly horrific though rose up in response. Or…was it him?

He felt the sand mouse tighten her grip on his hand…as if to steady him.

How, _how_ did she always seem able to unravel his thoughts!?

"You're right," he heard her softly admit at length; "my life was far from glamorous. And I'll never forget it: the sleeping in the cold, the days of hunger…the near misses with various—" she gulped and cut herself off, "but, I'll also never forget how much harm I did to others."

Mozenrath couldn't stop himself from re-connecting gazes. Her eyes were filled with shame.

"I suffered, I lived a miserable life," she whispered, "but, I probably inflicted as much pain as I received." She shook her head in self-reproach, looking away. "You see, I never stole from rich people; it's tricky and dangerous. The rich have guarded homes, watchmen and such. So, I stole from _the poor_. If I took their food or something else I needed, there was no one they could send to chase after me. Only the palace patrol, but I learned how to evade them. But," she sighed in remorse, "every time I took food, I never forgot it. Who was going without so I could eat? Was it some hard-working man scraping by to feed his children? Was it a pregnant mom who would suffer from not having supper? Was it a child who would go to bed hungry because I took his food?" Mozenrath swallowed in disbelief when he heard a sniffle.

"But, surely they understood," he heard himself say, and pushed back his incredulousness that he'd actually make an effort to comfort her, "they lived scanty lives as you; surely they knew your actions were out of need, not malice." He flicked his free wrist and a handkerchief appeared. He tentatively offered it to her, which she took with a teary smile.

He ignored how good it felt to _do something_ for her; after all her efforts to "put him back together," as she had put it. But, it would have been easier if that blasted warm feeling went away—which it didn't.

She wiped her eyes and they were a little puffy when they rested on his again. "I didn't make a very good street mouse," she weakly admitted, "I think part of the reason I was so clumsy was I was always arguing with myself when I stole. When I was making my getaways, I'd be debating with myself whether or not I really needed what I took—I always did," she added to his bemused look, "I only stole when there was absolutely no other way…not that that made it right," she grumbled under her breath, "but…I kept telling myself my life would be so much easier if I just stopped caring." She sighed in resignation. "I was all alone; I had no family, no one cared about me, so I tried to convince myself I should just stop having feelings altogether. It would have made my life so much easier if I just stopped thinking about how my actions hurt people."

There was no keeping at bay the sick knot that formed in Mozenrath's stomach. The fact was, that was what he had done; had cast off all feelings and simply did whatever he wished. No regrets, no conscience, no empathy. And…it had made life easier; more bearable to simply _not_ feel-ever.

No barriers; nothing to restrain his power or ambitions; his hunger for more.

There was only him and Xerxes. He felt a pang at that, and glanced up at the sand mouse. She had been all alone for so long…at least he had had Xerxes.

But, the years before that; oh yes, he remember the constant pain of loneliness. He quickly crushed the memories before they rose up to torment him anew.

"And so you hold no resentment?" he asked pointedly instead. "You reject any bitterness because you hurt others? The pain they caused you no longer matters?" The bite in his voice was unmistakable.

"No."

"No?"

"No," she firmly said, "I could have forgiven them…but there was nothing to forgive them for."

He laughed without humor. "You are surely joking."

"I'm not," she retorted, raising her chin, "no one forced me to live like I did, no one took my parents from me; I…have no memories of them. My earliest memories are—" she coughed and cut herself off, grimacing, "that's not important; what is important is what happened to me simply happened. No one forced things to turn out the way they did; they just did. The end."

"You are more forbearing than I would be," Mozenrath darkly replied.

Another twist of her lips; he wasn't completely successful in keeping a snicker at bay. Her expressions were too much to bear.

"Don't make me whack you again," she mock-warned when he unsuccessfully masked the snicker as a cough; he only grinned at her.

"At least hit me with a pillow made out of fine silk, if you're going to threaten," he quipped, throwing her an '_I dare you'_ look.

The finest silk met his face a second later.

"Still not fine enough," he prodded smugly—then made the mistake of looking away.

Burlap connected with the back of his head.

"Hey! Un-couth sand mouse."

"Snobby, high born wizard."

"And that's a rebuke?"

Whack.

Mozenrath grabbed for the pillow, but Sadira yanked it away; the wizard bolted forward after it but Sadira twisted it out of reach and entwined her ankles around his boots and tugged.

He went falling back first onto the boat—but grabbed her sleeve with a vindictive smirk at the last second.

She went toppling down too.

"Give me that, fluffy," he snarked, wrestling her and pulling at the pillow.

"No way," she retorted, pulling back, "this burlap is _far too fine_ for someone of your rank; maybe if you were the sultan—and had better taste."

"Oh-hoh," Mozenrath replied, rising to the challenge, "well, if I'm not good enough to be near it—"

It burst into flames.

With a yell, Sadira threw it into the river, and then cast a 'game on' stare to the wizard.

"You do realize that I have to avenge the poor burlap now, right?" her mock indignant tone was out-rightly antagonizing.

Mozenrath chuckled, deciding to play along. "Avenge it? That was the best thing to ever happen to it."

He was pounced on and being tauntingly jabbed with little fists a moment later. All right; that had been…unexpected.

She was so impressively strong for her little frame; her limbs hard and toned. And fast too; it was hard to keep up with her 'blink-of-an-eye' maneuvers.

The mouse was tricky as well; blast her.

But, she eventually got overconfident and left an opening; he took it and with a neat flip, pinned her down.

"Got you," he avowed, struggling to keep her down, "nimble little mouse that you are."

"Puh," she sputtered, looking for a way to wind free from his grasp, "not all of us are raised in silk and marble."

Mozenrath was catapulted back 13 years.

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**A/N: **I know, you still don't know what's gonna happen w/ Desdane and Jafar. I promise it'll be in the next chapter. Plz review!


	60. Chapter 60: Silk & Marble

**A/N: **Ok, all; so, thanks for the fab reviews! I really enjoy reading each one a LOT, and they really make this soooo much more fun! Anyhow; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 60: Silk & Marble_

Mozenrath was catapulted 13 years back:

_It was the first time he had ever tasted the fire manacles. In that first year he had been forced to live in Desdane's citadel, he had quickly become accustomed to the beatings and starvation. He had defied the sorcerer for months, refusing to learn magic, despite the horrible punishments he had endured—he could only see learning magic as a road that would eventually turn him into his captor._

_And that's what Desdane was: a jailer; not a master, not a teacher—a kidnapper and captor._

_And that made him a prisoner; not a protégé. _

_But, it had become clear after the first half dozen escape attempts that the citadel was well guarded and escape without magic was impossible…which had left one terrible alternative:_

_Learn magic._

_And so, he had feigned submission to the evil man, who had been eventually convinced of his broken spirit—until he had caught Mozenrath in his chambers trying to call out to his family through a fire mirror._

"_I'm through being easy on you boy," the aged man had hissed, standing over Mozenrath as he lay bound on the lavish woven rug, struggling, "your worthless kin will never find you here." _

_He recalled looking up preparing to tell Desdane he was wrong—only to see the elder mage _smiling_. _

_He remembered the chill that settled in his stomach. That smile was always the warning thunderclap before the storm unleashed._

"_In fact," the mage went on with a lazy wave, "if you so dearly wish to see them…I'll let you."_

_Mozenrath had gulped in fear; no, it had to be some sort of trick. He would never allow it._

"_No," he remembered weakly objecting, his voice shaking; his body joining a moment later._

"_Oh," the other insisted, amused, "I insist." He waved at the air beside him and a mirror blossomed from scarlet flames. The fire danced around the perimeter of the iridescent center, which clarified…first showing his brother._

_Mozenrath couldn't recall now just exactly what his brother had looked like, though he recollected him being smaller and younger. He had watched in terror as his little brother ran—with guards chasing him!?_

_But why!? _

"_Stop! Thief!" a large man had shouted, pursuing the small boy. The child deftly veered and weaved through alleys of barrels and crates, eventually leaving the men behind._

"_So, who shall rescue you?" Desdane had drawled. "This brat? He's now a street rat; living off of refuse and stealing scraps for food."_

_Mozenrath shook his head. "No, you're lying; that can't be true." His parents would never have cast his brother out; he remembered their love, they would never—_

"_Oh?" Desdane returned with a snicker, "Perhaps you'll accept when I show you your parents." Another wave and Mozenrath beheld a…cemetery?_

"_No," he said, his throat closing as tears came._

_The headstone closest to the mirror read: "Bashirah, beloved wife and mother, rest peacefully eternal in the arms of God."_

_Hot tears bled down his cheeks. His mother…dead. Grief gored him like a spear. His head bowed, weighed down by pain._

_Desdane's cruel voice cut through the fog of misery. "But, perhaps your father will eventually find you…as he yet lives."_

_Mozenrath recalled the flawlessly laid trap; the treacherous spark of hope flickered in him. Yes; perhaps his father—_

_Desdane waved one more time, and he caught sight of his father—_

_And desperately wished he hadn't…._

_It was a vast, cavernous chamber made of hewn stone which appeared before him. It was filled with men, all reveling; eating and drinking and dancing around piles of gold and treasure. _

_And, there stood his father, garbed in a fine cobalt blue robe…at the center of it._

"_Let us toast Cassim!" one man declared, raising a bright golden goblet, "Victor of the day!"_

_The men all chanted his father's name, waving baubles of glittering treasure in their one hand and wine-filled cups in the other. _

"_All hail Cassim! Our king!" the first man proclaimed, "The King of Thieves!"_

"_King Cassim! King of Thieves!" the others chanted joyously, drinking from bejeweled cups and covered in their treasures—_

_Looted, Mozenrath realized, stolen, plundered…looted._

_His father had _left_ them; had rejected him and his brother-and his own dead wife-to become a _thief.

"_Go on boy," Desdane had taunted, "call out to him; I promise he'll hear you. Tell him where you are. Perhaps if he knows you're here, he might come to pillage me and then you could try to escape again. You've learned enough magic to perhaps be of use to your father. He might want your magic to make stealing easier. Though…he seems quite skilled, don't you think? It must have taken him much time and dedication to become so _adept_ a criminal. Aren't you proud?"_

_Mozenrath remembered weeping more…but now they were tears of rage, not pain._

_Desdane had tormented him for a full year, he had learned anger well in that year; he had learned fury, he had learned hatred._

_But in that moment, he learned _rage_: hot, searing, all-consuming rage. It had swallowed him whole as his ears were lacerated with the sounds of men laughing and celebrating—_

_The laughter of his father laughing and celebrating._

"_I'm waiting boy," Desdane said, his voice now hardened, commanding, "call out to him."_

_Mozenrath shook his head; it was a mistake._

_The icy manacles biting into his flesh burst into flames._

_He screamed; he had never screamed so loud in his life. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and he tasted blood._

_But he never heard the calling voice of his father—he only heard his laughter; his men's laughter. It slashed into him more fiercely than the flames._

_Desdane seized him by the throat, lifting him from the floor with one hand. Even as the flames crackled, cutting and ravaging Mozenrath's flesh, they never touched their master._

"_Never forget, boy," Desdane bit out, his breath on Mozenrath's face, "you have nothing; you _are_ nothing, without me. Your father threw you away, you and your worthless brother, to chase after treasure. You were never worth looking for and the moment your mother was dead, he left. He'll never come seeking you, because you are not worth seeking. So, make your choice you ungrateful boy; you can live on the streets in some forsaken land feeding off society's off-scouring's, and sleep in a hovel; or, you can live here, among silk and marble. Choose wisely if you ever want to be worth anything at all, because I'm your only hope of ever becoming worthy of anything or anyone."_

_He then dropped Mozenrath carelessly onto the floor. He yelled as burnt skin connected to brightly-colored cloth. _

_He had chosen that day, moaning on the carpet as he heard the shuffling of cloth as Desdane walked out; he would learn from Desdane, he would become the most powerful sorcerer in the world—and then he'd get even._

_He'd have his vengeance on the elder wizard; he'd repay Desdane for every drop of suffering he had inflicted on him._

_And then, he'd find his father. Cassim would never escape him; the world wasn't big enough to hide in…he'd bury him under his precious treasure and make him rot…slowly. He'd do what his traitorous father never did: he'd rescue himself from Desdane and then locate his brother._

_He'd never tell his brother what their father had done; his brother would just think he had died along with their mother._

_In a twisted way, it would at least be partly true. _

_He'd never let his father experience the mercy of death. Not after deserting them both to their fates. He'd be repaid in kind._

_Mozenrath swore it._

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**A/N: **Ya know, I was going to go on after this segment, but I thought this deserved its own chapter. So, enjoy! Plz review!


	61. Chapter 61: Standing at the Precipice

**A/N: **Happy Easter! Enjoy! Thanks for reading

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 61: Standing at the Precipice _

Mozenrath gasped, as if coming up from deep water; he gulped for air and realized his face was wet.

In front of him stood the Ferryman, a pail in his free hand; beside him Sadira was shaking him while repeating his name, her eyes wide and afraid.

He was vaguely surprised to hear genuine concern in her voice; then asked himself why he should be. For some reason or another, the sand mouse had delegated herself responsible for him; though he had yet to figure out why.

Poor, misguided girl; altruism was truly a vile mistress; vile _and sick-humored_ apparently.

"I'm all right," he said at length, raising his free hand to stave off more water or repeated: 'are you all right's.'

The being called Karonon nodded and with a wave, dispelled the pail. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a flask.

"Good idea," the sand mouse said, still holding onto Mozenrath's arm, as if worried he'd fall over otherwise.

The worst part was he couldn't eliminate the possibility. On some level, it seemed rather tempting; a few hours free from…_everything_.

Twisting off the flask's top, Karonon poured dark violet liquid into a cup he conjured and offered it silently to the wizard. Mozenrath didn't take it; he also made a point of not looking the skeletal man (all skeletal man) in the…'face.'

He was just too raw right now; too exposed to…everything. He felt completely razed and scoured by what he just remembered.

He blinked himself back to reality when the cup somehow was pressing itself against his lips. He looked.

The sand mouse was holding it.

"Drink," she said.

He shook his head and drew away. He didn't know what it was and while he doubted the immortal wanted to hurt him, he just…didn't feel trusting of anything at the moment.

His father.

His wretched, worthless…traitorous father.

How long had it been since he'd allowed himself to even think of the man-?

No; men didn't abandon their sons to chase gold; whatever Cassim was, he was not a man.

"I didn't mean that to sound like a suggestion," the sand mouse cut-into his thoughts, her voice harder—but still thick with worry, "it's the Wine of Restoration; drink it."

Mozenrath wondered for a second why Karonon didn't use the wine himself then, before parting his lips.

The wine was surprisingly fragrant, it actually smelled better than it tasted; but, the taste was uniquely wonderful: lightly sweet, full and rich of exotic fruits, honey and just a hint of spices.

He swallowed and most succeeded in repressing the relieved sigh. The wine rolled over his raw throat, coating it soothingly and after a moment, he did feel his head clear.

The dull ache in his body receded; his bone arm stopped hurting—really stopped hurting.

Not even the Elixir of Life had accomplished that…amazing.

He subtly flexed his bone arm and for the first time since it had…become what it was, there was no pain. He swallowed, somehow feeling less chained and bound—imprisoned—in his past.

Freedom: he tasted that on his tongue with the wine; a tiny, thoroughly blissful drop of freedom.

Wet eyes met the Ferryman, who's open sockets were all that peered back at him—but somehow he knew that Karonon was aware of what the wine had done for him. There was a tiny glimmer of light behind those dead orbs.

"Thank you," the wizard said, and for the first time in over a decade, meant it.

Karonon only gave him a 'welcome' nod, the bones in his neck creaking at the movement.

The sand mouse gave him back the cup with a grateful smile. "C'mon," she said, tugging his sleeve and rising, stretching her back with a small groan.

"Where?" Mozenrath asked without reassessing their surroundings. And then he caught it:

The boat had come to a stop; they had reached the Royal Quarters.

This time he did face palm; the sand mouse only pulled on his shoulder with a: "Let's go, wizard. You can lament you're not being perfect later on."

He threw her a sour side-long look as he rose to follow her; she only tossed back a teasing smile and looked in the Ferryman's direction.

"Wait for us here?"

Karonon nodded, leaning on his long staff; Mozenrath glanced at him and felt an emotion surge up inside him that he'd only experienced once in his life before—for Xerxes:

Pity.

He forced himself to look away and shake off the feeling before trailing after the sand mouse.

He ignored the lingering thought that perhaps Karonon knew that too.

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Sadira let her overly proud companion catch up to her at his own pace.

Which…when he discreetly hastened his steps to close the distance between them quickly, she didn't take the opening it offered; she sense this wasn't the time for barbs—good natured or otherwise.

Karonon had brought them to a dark stone landing that gave way to a very wide, ascending staircase; the stairs themselves were made of bronze marble trimmed with gold and silver, and lapis carved into it offered up a breathtaking design.

The grand stairway itself ushered them to a set of very tall double doors made of fabulously well-polished mahogany wood. Gold lavishly entwined itself up and down them in a pattern of leaves, vines, suns and stars.

Sadira felt both awed and diminished by their colossal size; they were easily 100 feet tall.

"The Queen's private chambers," she said, not looking back at Mozenrath. The brooding wizard came to a halt just behind her left shoulder.

"Then we'd best not waste time," he emotionlessly said.

She nodded and uttering the spell to make them open, was both surprised and unnerved when they made no sound when slowly swinging apart. Dark gloom met their eyes.

She summoned up the Queen's Scepter; it was best to not take chances. Despite all her research, she still hadn't been able to uncover what lie in wait for them. The Queen's Chambers were never described in the scrolls; they were veiled in absolute secrecy.

It made her both hopeful and terrified.

She raised the tip of the weapon towards the door and exhaled. "Ready?"

She heard Mozenrath let out a steadying sigh. "Yes; let's get this over with."

They cautiously pressed forward.

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**A/N:** I know this is short, but I wanted to upload something before Easter. Thanks for all the continued encouragement and support! I'd like to thank Malaysia and Saudi Arabia for tying 3rd in the countries reading this! That's epic Psst; we're at over 10,000 readers now! OMgosh!


	62. Chapter 62: Lineage of the Past

**A/N: **Hey y'all, aren't I nice? Two chapters for y'all! Have fun! Plz Review! Onward….

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 62: Lineage of the Past_

The vast corridor past the main doors was dense darkness; Sadira whispered a word and another mage light bloomed into being, offering gentle ivory-lemon light to guide the way.

She took a deep breath of the silent air, surprised at how cool and somewhat musty it was; but with the river running along inside the palace, Sadira supposed that shouldn't mystify her.

Her 'partner' walked soundlessly behind her, guessing no doubt—rightly—that she wanted to and should lead; Mozenrath was more than cynical enough to surmise traps for any non-sand-witches would lurk around every corner, in the Royal Chambers most of all.

Jib would probably be returning around now; Sadira twisted her lips, belatedly wishing he could have joined them. The enthusiastic 'royal' emissary would have reveled in such an opportunity. She wondered if Jib ever was lonely; she had never come across any other sand worms since falling into the old ruins. She didn't accept the idea that Jib was the only one; after all, he had returned to his mother initially, but had never mentioned any other friends or relatives.

She wondered why.

The passageway was built of bricks, faded gold-plating chipped away and revealing the plain tan beneath. Unlit lamps and torches ornately carved and with dangling stones and crystals rested upon each wall along with embossed carvings which Sadira noted retold legends and great tales of the Royal Dynasty.

In her peripherals, she caught Mozenrath examining the carvings with that trademark scathing expression of his; she considered it likely the man could dissect with his dark eyes.

She swallowed and did not let herself think about how those mysterious eyes would pull at her whenever she looked into them, like the whirlpool she sort of…forgot about a while ago.

No, she wasn't going to think about that, because if she did, then she'd let her mind wander to his elegant features, and the proud way he held himself—even when half dead—and….

Nope, nope; she had to stop this, otherwise—

Whack!

Why did her nose suddenly hurt?

Behind her, the wizard coughed. "It may help to _open_ the door first," he casually suggested.

Too casually.

And then she saw it; a closed door right in front of her—and she had walked right into it!

Ugh; and of course, she did it in front of Mozenrath—of _spell-blasted_ course!

She knew she'd gone too long without embarrassing herself in front of him; it had just been a matter of time….

"Well, I did warn you I can be clumsy," she dryly retorted, relieved she didn't sound nearly as humiliated as she felt. And thank the stars he was standing _behind her_; her face was getting too hot too suddenly and she could do without his catching it.

She dearly wanted to crawl into a hole right now.

She muttered a word, and the wooden door clicked as the lock turned and opened for them.

This one was maybe a fifth of the size of the main; it was a single and not double, and led to a small winding passage of an arch shape, but made of the same brick.

"This must lead to the Queen's private sanctum;" Sadira whispered excitedly, "the queens always kept their private chambers in the lower levels and connected by discreet passages."

"Yes," Mozenrath caustically agreed, "gold-plated bricks are always soooo discreet."

She elbowed him reflexively; he impaled her with a glower. She only smiled.

"Shall we, your lordship?" her tone was far too sweet to be serious and they both knew it.

"That fluffy mane of yours I doubt is fire-proof," Mozenrath snarked, "don't push your luck too far, sand mouse."

Sadira only laughed and practically pranced down the stairs. Good; if he was snapping those perfect teeth of his, he wasn't brooding.

"Why did you remain in Agrabah, after learning magic?" he abruptly asked her as they wound through more corridors.

Sadira never let her eyes leave the amazing array of artifacts, relics and finery the Witches of the Sand apparently held in superabundance. She shrugged.

"Why should I? It's the only home I've ever known."

"Isn't that a good enough reason to leave? With all your miserable recollections of this place?"

"Maybe, but if I had, think of all the people I would have never met."

And yes, she was including him in that; she was woman enough to admit it—to herself, not him though. His head was more than big enough.

But, was it? Was all that arrogance and haughtier legitimate, or a façade? Sadira was under no delusions: he had some sort of memory breakthrough back on the boat. She had sensed something inside of him suppressed and blocked fighting itself free. And now she knew: it _had _been memories.

And…now that he had experienced this resurgence, she and he were all too aware—more were coming.

But, was that good or bad? The way he had reacted was evidence enough; what he had recalled had been horrific at best; would all the coming ones be likewise?

Sadira wondered what he had remembered.

"And so you stay out of some sense of…roots? Lineage?"

"Well, I can now; besides," she flicked her hair out of her face and heard the wizard snicker—apparently her 'fluffy mane' was an endless source of amusement for him. She didn't mind; he didn't seem to think it ugly…just 'fluffy' apparently.

Her face started to burn again when those backhanded compliments of his floated back to the fore of her mind.

She swallowed. No one had ever, other than her teachers, said such flattering things before; and granted, Mozenrath had stated them as facts and nothing more—the end result was: he had still said them.

Her stomach knotted; she never understood why men never seemed to notice her, she assumed for a long time that it was because she was ugly or too low…but then enough of them had mentioned her looks that she had ruled that out as a reason. But…beyond remarking that she was pretty…they made no moves beyond.

She was fairly certain now that it was her magic; many of her teachers had revealed that having 'magical resonance,' as they dubbed it, drove many non-magical mortals away; their sub-conscious feared it, they had warned her.

And so, she understood at last why most mages lived alone or with other magical beings exclusively; of course, there were exceptions, like Aladdin and Jasmine, but then, royals and mages always seemed to have some sort of ties…and Aladdin being the "diamond in the rough," as she had been told, his magic immunity was explainable. But, for most people, no; magic was something they ran away from.

And so, no men came courting; oh well, she had reluctantly learned to live with it.

Till her snobby companion was practically tossed into her life; then things quickly became…interesting.

"I stay because," she sighed, not wanting to say: 'they're my friends' again. Mozenrath it seemed didn't understand that.

"I stay because this is where I was born," she opted for instead, "this is the land of my blood; and if I were to try and make a home someplace else, what friends and yes, 'roots,' I do have, I'd leave behind. And I don't have to do that. The fact is, I travel a great deal; my life has improved a lot since learning to control my magic, I won't deny that. I see the world, I explore new places; for all the suffering I did, at least it's _over_ now. I can recapture that lost time; I am in fact already; life has become an adventure." She stopped and made a point of meeting those dark eyes again; she dearly _wanted_ him to understand. She knew he didn't; but he was _trying_, it frustrated him to not understand her; and frankly, she felt the same way. It was becoming ever-clearer how much Desdane stole from him…grasping things like lineage, ancestry and so on near the top of the list…loyalty, friendship, mercy and compassion being foremost however.

She watched his dark gaze flicker, wrestling with her words, unpacking, sifting aggressively for comprehension, yet still not seeing.

"Don't you see?" she gently asked, "I had a horrible life; but now, I can move on. Things are different now. And…I see now that there was no one to blame; no one to hate. With all the freedom and power at my disposal now, how could I just go away and forget? The people I stole from I'd leave behind; people I could help, and when I travel, I see hurting and needy everywhere? How could I just turn away when I used to be _one of them_? If one of them had found the witches' ruins, I'd want them to help _me_. The Witches of the Sand started out as a sisterhood of mages who wanted to help their people; yes, it ended in an evil dynasty that ruled through tyranny, but before the Great Division, this Empire was good. That's what I want to continue; and it's been worth it."

Mozenrath looked away, his expression exasperated and torn. He paced a bit, glancing at the carvings, his gaze rented and yes, tormented.

"At least tell me these people showed you proper gratitude," he ground out at length.

She watched him start when she laughed. "Oh yes," she said, "should I tell you how?"

His eyes narrowed at the 'bait' in her voice.

She took his silence as acceptance. "I found one of the treasure vaults amongst the ruins," she said and his eyes widened, surely already guessing, "and so I scooped up rubies, silver, emeralds, _gold_—"

Mozenrath put up his hands and looked away. "No; _don't tell me_, I can't bear to hear it—"

Sadira licked her lips, reveling in anticipation. He could be _such _a snob! "And…." Her voice thickened with dramatic climax, "I gave them _away_ to all the people I ever stole from—_all of it_."

Mozenrath let out a disgusted groan and had to brace himself against the nearest wall.

"I should have let the pet Genie accompany you," he moaned dryly.

Sadira only laughed. Prodding his arrogant sensibilities was _such fun_, after all. But, she also hoped the sarcasm helped soften the blow of what she was trying to get across.

Time would tell, she supposed.

"Come on, Your Snobbishness," she lightly jabbed, taking his sleeve and tugging, "you and your sensibilities can be put out later on. A walk with help, I promise." She grinned unrepentantly at his glower.

"That repulsive generosity of yours," he snarked after a moment, "is not what they did to show gratitude."

"No," she indifferently agreed, "but…I'll tell you after I think you've recovered enough from this shock."

And there was the tiniest glimmer of snark in his eyes that hinted he probably didn't mind her teasing as much as he let on.

It wasn't too long before they reach a gorgeous set of cobalt doors with the insignia of the Royal Dynasty.

"This is it, the Sanctum," Sadira quietly said.

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**A/N: **I know, I know, you're all waiting for the Jafar-Desdane showdown. I promise it IS coming; just wanted this out of the way first.


	63. Chapter 63: A New Beginning

**A/N: **Hey y'all, Happy Easter I hope the day has been good to ya. Well, my house is all clean but my company's not coming till evening; so…while a I wait, writing time! I'll make this extra good for the holiday. Enjoy! Plz leave an extra special review…and to those of you who have reviewed recently for the first time: THX! I always LUV to receive new points of view; it's always fun…. And to Jessenia; I luv the Moze-Sadira dynamic too, they're such a hilarious pairing. After this fic is done, I might do some one or two-shots of just them, for kicks and giggles. We'll see As of today we're at 10,463 readers! Well, Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 63: A New Beginning_

The sand mouse touched the tip of the ancient weapon to the doorway and it opened for them.

Mozenrath discreetly summoned up his magic…just in case. He admitted to himself that while the Old Palace was a fascinating site and he wouldn't object to returning at some point to explore further…he had no deluded sense of safety.

Desdane ripped all imaginings of 'safety' from him long ago; moreover sand mages and black sand mages didn't exactly 'get along' in times past.

He and the sand mouse's cooperation was unprecedented, which made him the enemy by association; curse it all. Desdane's time was coming, he reminded himself with a steadying exhale.

"Ready?" the sand mouse asked.

He saw her catch his nod in her peripherals, and they warily stepped into…a catastrophe.

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Saleen stood to one side as her new interest watched Jafar's rant with a tiny smirk.

She did love his fearlessness.

"….I'll level your pathetic palace to the ground!" Jafar roared, and except for Mirage and Aghoul, all the rest of the company backed away; some even looked as though they wanted to flee, but didn't dare to draw the enraged genie's attention.

"I cannot kill you, Desdane," the scarlet genie growled, leaning down to jab a long onyx claw at the wizard, "but you'd be amazed at what a man can live through."

Many of the assembly shuddered at the chilling threat; Saleen only snickered. Jafar reeled on her.

"I'll deal with your Elemental when I'm done with you," he snarled to Desdane, barring his fanged teeth and raised a hand again.

The citrine powers crackled and shook the chamber. Saleen only leaned against a nearby chair, waiting for the fun to begin.

Desdane only sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Jafar, Jafar," he drawled, walking away from the genie's lamp, and Jafar turned to always keep him in sight. "As amusing as a battle would be with you…I just got my Citadel back the way I like it, and I'm simply too busy a sorcerer to play 'duel' with you." He chuckled at Jafar's narrowed eyes. "Perhaps in a few centuries if you're still around I'll make some time then."

Saleen watched as something glowing scarlet-gold oozed out of the cracks in the stone floor and took hold of the lamp after solidifying. She grinned, but made no sound. Oh, how _delicious_ this was!

Desdane waved lazily. "Now…I could simply _wish_ you to come to your senses," he continued and the Elemental saw by now Jafar suspected a trap, "but…." He gestured to the table, where the new arrival now held Jafar's lamp.

Saleen let herself giggle now –Jafar's horrified face was _too much_ to stand!

"What!?" he wailed in fury. "Where do you find a _Magmarian Beast_?"

The Magmarian Beast, of simply called a 'Magmar,' was about the size of a pony. Its exterior body was a conglomeration of dried armor plates, each created by lava into some type of rock once cooled. Its massive back rippled with plates and spikes of shiny obsidian, its side plates sparkling granite. Its soft underbelly was a glittery array of crystals, gems, and agates. Two stubby legs were also granite plated, as well as its two longer arms. Its hands and toes were vaguely dinosaur-like; as was its large head.

With a menacing grin, it wiggled the glossy lamp at Jafar—before opening its massive, fanged mouth.

Glowing up from its yawning throat was buttery-orange glow: lava.

Jafar gasped, though it came out more like an angry hiss. His gaze riveted to Desdane.

"You're bluffing," he bit out.

Desdane laughed. Striding casually back to the Magmar, he patted its head and gazed up at Jafar. "Am I?" he asked lightly, snickering. "You see, Jafar, there are so many dead wizards I could have returned to life…but there is a reason I chose you."

"Because of my power."

"No," Desdane immediately returned and Jafar blinked and sputtered as though not believing him. "Because you always avoided me, before changing into what you are now and that demonstrates you have _sense_; I want allies with sense."

Now Saleen could tell Desdane had the genie's full attention. "Allies?" he carefully repeated. "Allies for what?" He glanced around the room again, probably reassessing who all Desdane had gathered to his Citadel.

"You do have quite an assembly," the genie quietly added, and then returned his burning eyes to Desdane, folding his arms. "All right," he conceded, his voice still resonating like thunder, "I'm listening, wizard."

Desdane smiled.

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Curses; the chamber was _all but demolished_.

Mozenrath held back the groan of annoyance as the sand mouse advanced to inspect what was left of the once glorious inner sanctum.

The walls, no doubt in their prime painted with lavish murals and inset with breathtaking bejeweled pictures capturing their Empire's history…were now fractured, faded and in places, simply gone.

The fabulous carpets were almost completely covered with tall hills of sand, most of the silver lamps broken and lying among rubble, the opulent furniture broken or damaged.

"This chamber was once so beautiful," the sand mouse lamented, opening a once golden chest encrusted with rubies and diamonds; the gold mostly chipped away, half of the gems gone.

Mozenrath could picture it in ages past: the domed ceiling covered with bejeweled murals of magical creatures and the previous royals, the gold rimming each panel running down to the walls, where it spread to mingle with silver and blue topaz waterfalls and amethyst-flowered gardens of jasmine and tiger lily's made of citrine and red diamonds.

"Indeed it was," he quietly agreed. He noticed the sand mouse had found another door and commanded it softly to open. He followed her across the large chamber and into the next.

It turned out to be another treasure room. No piles of sand, except in the far, far back.

But plenty of piles of gold, golden everything's and rubies the size of plums—amongst other ridiculous amounts of treasures; Mozenrath sighed.

"I suppose you're going to give this all away too?" he snarked.

And of course the impudent sand mouse only laughed.

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Desdane didn't answer right away, but majestically walked over to another table, which something sat atop it, draped beneath a gold-trimmed cobalt cloth. He pulled it back.

Jafar actually recoiled.

Perched on the long, narrow table was the statue of a golden man, grinning and holding a massive pear-shaped ruby in his outstretched hands. It glittered dazzlingly.

"The Ruby of Arimiset?" Jafar asked in disbelief. "It can't be! I sensed it within the Cave of Wonders!"

"Yes," Desdane dryly agreed, touching the gem, "I placed many of my treasures in the Cave; it was nothing of course, to overtake the Lion's Head and force it to my will."

Jafar growled angrily.

"And…I assumed it would be the perfect store for my relics," Desdane frowned up at the genie, "until _your_ bugling cost me my little sanctuary."

"I was not to blame," the genie thundered indignantly, "the 'diamond in the rough' street rat angered the Cave and it collapsed. It was none of my doing."

"And who brought the boy there?"

Jafar ground his teeth. Desdane waved dismissively, seeing his point had been made.

"In any case," the sorcerer went on, "I have a bargain for you. Pass through this Ruby and it will remove your genie form. You'll return to you old self before the lamp; you'll retain your sorcerer's powers, and I'll allow you to join our company."

Jafar's golden eyes narrowed. "You're not fooling me, old one. The Ruby will not only take my genie form, but all of my genie magic as well; I'll be weakened for it."

"You can't kill as a genie, and therefore are of no use to me," Desdane countered, and gestured non-chalantly, "but, I could always use a wish to _make_ you do so…but then I'd feel less inclined to let you join our company—against the diamond in the rough."

Jafar jolted. "You wish to destroy Aladdin? Why?"

"Because he's in my way," Desdane returned, clenching an extended fist, "you see, Jafar, this really is all your doing. You found the Cave, you tracked down the boy; you brought him to the Cave and practically introduced him to the genie. Once the boy controlled a genie, he became a magnet for all sorts of magical liaisons. He now has a sand witch as an ally…and my apprentice."

Something dark and epiphany-like crossed the genie's face. "So, you did have an apprentice then; I thought as much. Why keep him hidden though?"

"That's not your concern," Desdane countered, "but, as you've made this more difficult for us, it's only right that you help ameliorate things. So…you'll pass through the Ruby, be able to kill once more and help us destroy the boy and conquer this world. Afterwards," and his harsh tone became more contemplative, "should I be pleased with your performance, I may allow you to help us conquer all the remaining worlds in existence…and then pick one to have for your own rule."

Jafar's eyes glinted; but it was clear he still wasn't convinced. "And my genie magic?"

"That will be leverage," Desdane imperiously replied, "I want assurance of your…long-term cooperation."

Jafar grinned; clearly not totally believing that. "And if I refuse? You'll use up three wishes quite quickly Desdane."

"Not if I use one to wish you through the Ruby," was the blunt but somehow still light return.

Jafar glowered, no doubt seeing the corner Desdane had him backed into. The sorcerer smirked, seeing the need to press.

He gestured to the Magmar. "But, if our…interlude had bored you, I could end it all now. Should the Magmar though, consume your lamp…you will die. And as this Magmar obeys only me…it may be quite a long time before I ever decide to raise you again—_if ever_."

Jafar's body coiled up in an impotent rage. "You make your point, sorcerer," he bit out, his tone murderous. Desdane only offered a small, slightly put out smile in exchange.

"So lovely of you to agree then," he regally said, and waved at the Ruby.

Jafar was growling, and fairly mutilating Desdane with death glares as his body shrunk to about six feet tall and he walked through the Ruby.

Desdane only strode to Saleen and threaded her arm though his; smiling with wicked triumph at her.

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"How did the people react after your excess of charity was over?" Mozenrath couldn't help but ask. He hated the idea of royal gold and gems being freely given to the seedy poor and dirty masses.

It would be like letting them come to live in his Citadel—his, not Desdane's.

Both were equally revolting to him. His stomach turned in objection; what was the world coming to?

Sadira only gave him a knowing glance and strode around the piles and pedestals laden with treasure.

"They were very happy," she evenly answered, "no, they were ecstatic—"

"I should hope so," Mozenrath dryly put in.

Sadira threw him a look and picked up a large ruby. "They were," she quietly insisted, and something about her tone made Mozenrath put away his indignation and really listen, "it was the first time most of them had ever held gold; or could pay off their debts and not fear prison, it was," she sighed and the wizard swallowed at seeing her eyes fill, "life-changing; it was life-changing for all of them. I remember," she swallowed hard, "they all hugged me over and over, some of them wept out of happiness, out of disbelief. None of them understood why, but when I explained that it was my way of making amends, when they heard me apologize for stealing what little they had," she gulped back a sob, the tears glazing her eyes but not spilling yet, and she wiped them away with her sleeve, "I…it was all worth it. I have more than enough to survive…but knowing that I made such an impact in their lives, that they'll have an entirely new and different future because I gave them a handful of gold and gems…," she shook her head, her eyes brighter than Mozenrath had ever seen them, "it felt so good, to do something useful, _to be useful_, to be important, for a change. Not just live for low-born me, not just for survival, but to change the world." Her eyes were wide and glittering with joy. "I…I'll never be able to explain it with words, but it just was."

Mozenrath wanted, desperately to bite out: _"but what did they do for you?"_ but couldn't. Her pure, unadulterated happiness, her blissful glow of joy, froze his tongue. He couldn't explain to himself why it had that effect on him, why she seemed so much more…radiant, so free; his throat tightened.

Free…yes, that is exactly what she appeared as in that moment: the embodiment of freedom.

He wanted to lash out, it was painful to take in her liberated soul; he dearly wanted to say _something_ venomous enough to drive her bliss into hiding—to drive this horrible raw feeling overcoming him into hiding with it….

But at the same time, he _didn't_ want that. He wanted to engrave the sight on his memory for just a moment longer—

"But, I suppose that still doesn't give you an answer," she said mock-dramatically, turning away and putting the ruby gently back into place. "The people were grateful though…grateful enough to gather together and decide on what they wanted to do for me." She turned just enough that he could see a vague blush climbing her cheek; that shattered the transfixed sensation gripping him and he snickered. She only grinned at him, knowing he saw and went on. "They got together and went to the sultan…they told him everything that I had done from the thefts, to the compensation…and—" she cut off.

He arched a brow at her. "And…?"

She smiled mischievously. "You should brace yourself."

He only threw her a dubious stare. She laughed.

"All right, but I warned you," she retorted, "they asked the sultan to issue me a full pardon…and he agreed. He made a royal declaration clearing my record and said as far as Agrabah was concerned, I never was a thief; I got an entirely fresh, new beginning." She giggled naughtily and Mozenrath's eyes narrowed questioningly.

"Razoul was _furious_," Sadira said by way of explanation, "that alone made it all the better. He was always livid every time I escaped; he always swore he'd never rest till I was in chains…in the lowest dungeon besides."

Mozenrath seethed. Ah; the head 'escort.' Yes, that sounded like him…he always was an unmitigated _fool_.

Sadira folded her arms and gave him a lopsided grin. "You know, I'm proud of you."

Mozenrath blinked in astonishment. "Oh? Why does that concern me?"

Sadira slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from completely losing it. A moment away she took it away. "You didn't need to grab the wall this time."

"I should hit _you_ with some dreadful burlap for that."

Sadira giggled. "Maybe later; we should keep going." She pivoted on her heel to make for the back of the room; Mozenrath was about to ask why she was bothering, after all only piles of sand were—

The room started to violently shake.

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The Ruby of Arimiset glowed blindingly as the behemoth who called himself Jafar passed his now translucent body through it. Power crackled and rippled in a dizzying display throughout the massive chamber and Saleen felt the Citadel itself shaking; the earth beneath grumbled and groaned beneath the pressure of so much power.

The company was silent except for some spurts of whispered questions and thoughts as the genie returned to his human form.

In a final, spectacular flash, the cacophony of sounds died away and the light dimmed. Beside the long table stood a tall, thin man in a black and ruby robe, a stately turban upon his head holding a golden staff with a cobra's head.

Desdane clapped his hands together, grinning. "Well now, how do you feel?"

"Diminished," Jafar sardonically replied, his expression angry-deadpan.

Saleen wondered with a giggle how he managed that countenance? No matter; it was hilarious! But, she held her silence.

Desdane only gave him an encouraging, mock sympathetic look. "Fear not, my dear ex-genie; you'll adapt to your 'former self' in time. Now," he turned to face them all, "that we are all here; there is much work to be done." He steepled his fingers thoughtfully, "conquering all of existence, my allies, will hardly be a simple task; but I daresay will be amply…entertaining."

Wicked snickers and sputters of laughter punctuated the chamber.

"Let us begin," the sorcerer declared.

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From a distance, a shadowy figure upon a biped mount retracted his looking glass and placed it back into his brown satchel.

"We must no delay," he told his 'steed,' his voice gravely and low. The beaked creature nodded. He turned it with the reigns towards a dune and the pair vanished from sight.

But not from detection.

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Sadira stabbed her spear-point into the stone floor and grabbed the wizard before he fell. She yanked him hard by the robe and put one of his hands around the spear so he knew to hold on.

He hadn't been right since the memory jarred free on the boat. And he hadn't concealed from her the fact that their talk about her past hadn't done much to steady him.

Confuse? Yes. Baffle? Definitely. But stabilize? Oh; far from it.

Sand and debris were falling on them from the cracked ceiling. Mozenrath coughed and shouted over the blaring noise of…something:

"What is going on sand mouse?!"

Even in the midst of crisis, his sharp tongue never dulled; she had gotten used to it.

"Something's coming," she yelled back, peering with squinted eyes around them; she felt a presence approaching—but, where?

Then she caught it: before them, the largest sand hill was…swelling.

Oh; that couldn't be a good thing.

And then the summit of the sand hill broke, and large, dusty golden scales—a sail-shaped spine emerged.

And then the heads followed.

Wait…heads?

Yep; heads: plural.

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**A/N: **OK, so we've got a lot covered today. Phew! The family get together was good time…but took longer than I had planned ergo this is going up late. Oh well, right? LOL; anyways, thanks for the lovely reviews and all, I continue to be greatly touched by your support and enjoyment of this work, it's been uber great, really Till next time. PS: Mozenrath always calling the guards 'escorts' is from the episode: "Black Sand." Watch it; it's a riot! LOL….


	64. Chapter 64: The Sand Hydra

**A/N: **OK, so first off: thx a billion for all the lovely reviews! Out of all my fics, this one gets the most love, which is awesome Also, I'm getting lots of "is_ gonna happen next?" questions. I promise, kiddos every question asked so far is explored in a later chapter…so hate to break it to ya's, but you gotta keep reading if you wanna know! Anyways, we're just under 11,000 readers to date…which my brain can't go there yet. But, let's not waste daylight: onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 64: The Sand Hydra_

The shaking didn't relent as…_whatever_ it was, emerged from the massive hills of sand before them, but Mozenrath had no doubt of one thing:

Whatever it was, it was big…very big.

Through eyes squinted to keep the flying sand particles at bay, the wizard watched as a huge creature rose from the sand, waterfalls of the tannish dirt falling from its seven heads and its massive, spine-ridged body.

Double-tails with massive bone hooks and gnarled hammer-like tips swung slowly to and fro.

As the hiss of falling sand died away, he rose carefully as the sand witch coughed and waved away clouds of debris. She never released the scepter.

Mozenrath beheld the 'newcomer.'

It towered over them, easily 30 feet high, its large body covered with golden skin made of pebbly armor; seven long necks with bronze spines ended with a dragon-like head and glowing lime-green eyes. Its enormous body rippled with formidable muscle. Two slightly short, though obviously powerful legs gave way to dragon like feet with huge bronze claws, but it had no arms or wings.

"The Sand Hydra," Sadira breathed, "I had no idea it was still here."

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Sahid found an inconspicuous corner one level above the chamber where the wedding would take place; the massive room gave way to a small pavilion constructed especially for the occasion, he had heard. But, for some reason, the groom to be was being very…sociable for the event.

That part wasn't strange; the groom was always meant to mingle with the guests and be cordial and friendly—

The problem was the groom seemed to be _looking for someone_.

That wasn't good.

Had they been betrayed? Had one of the 40 let something slip? Who was the boy seeking?

That last part Sahid worried over most; he had invisibly shadowed the boy and the strange man who wore the blue body-paint for some time, yet the boy was very…discreet in his questions. Regardless, the boy was most definitely on some sort of quest. Sahid noted how the boy's eyes darted about, scouring the faces of all in the chamber, the hopeful note in his voice each time he greeted a new guest, his animated gestures and so on.

Had they been revealed; and if so, by whom?

Cassim was the only one who left the chambers last night….

No; it couldn't have been their king, surely not.

Sahid narrowed his eyes as the thought occurred to him that this boy…reminded him of Cassim; his mouth dried as he realized the boy had the same color hair and eyes, same eyes, mouth, nose….

Sahid swallowed as a shocking and terrible thought grew in his mind….

The boy's facial features were almost exactly like their king's.

No; Sahid had to be mistaken. Cassim had fanatically searched Agrabah for his sons; neither was to be found here…he had to be wrong; perhaps it was just happenstance.

His years as a thief whispered a reminder to him that there was _no_ happenstance—ever.

Sahid considered warning Cassim about the boy; but by now he was definitely double-checking their escape route and then quietly making for the sultan's treasure room.

He chanced exposing them both to the guards if he tried to alert Cassim now.

With a frustrated sigh and grinding of teeth, Sahid withdrew back into the shadows; he'd simply have to trust that their leader could look after himself—and that he was wrong about the boy.

Sahid wanted to groan at that; a gnawing pit formed in his stomach.

He observed as the boy finished speaking to a shah and lumbered with his head down towards the bizarre blue man. Sahid wondered if the paint was a tribal symbol or if he was some sort of warrior or perhaps a clan magician from a far off land. He wore the shoes of the Seven Deserts and had one golden earring and typical beard and mustache…but something about his body language and mannerisms didn't…_fit_ the rest of him. The blue man patted the boy's shoulder and said something in an encouraging tone to him.

That gnawing feeling got worse; instinct was practically screaming at Sahid that they should get out now.

He shook away the thought; perhaps he was getting too old for this; retreat from a boy and blue man?

He must be losing his mind; one too many thefts and close calls perhaps.

He withdrew into the shade to clear his head.

He tried to not think about how strikingly the boy resembled Cassim; but failed.

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The sand hydra's seven heads all opened at once, letting out a cacophony of shrieks that shook the chamber and stabbed into Mozenrath's ears. He and the sand mouse both covered their heads to block the terrible wailing sound.

"Do something!" the wizard yelled over the shrieks. "It's your blasted creature!"

Sadira slammed the scepter against the ground. It made a strange, but somehow dynamic and profound 'booming' sound that silenced the creature.

Mozenrath withdrew his hands, and noted how the monster had all 14 eyes locked onto the scepter now. Ah; so it had seen her _holding_ it, but wasn't certain if she had _claimed_ it yet, as one of their number.

One of the heads, near the center, craned itself forward and once its snout was over the sand mouse, sniffed her lightly. It recoiled slowly and spoke to the others in a strange language of hisses, clicks, and punctuated low-shrieks.

The head drew forward again. It spoke to the sand mouse in the same tongue. Fortunately, this language was one of the hundreds Mozenrath knew.

"_Greetings, sister; forgive our suspicions, we have not seen one of our Order in many long millennia." _

The sand mouse sighed. "I know; the Old Order is gone; I'm all that's left."

All of the heads jolted in shock at that initially, but then Mozenrath's eyes narrowed in surprise when their heads all dipped, he thought mournfully.

"_This we feared. After the final battle, the Old Palace was attacked…by the evil black sand lord's final spell. It destroyed the Sanctum…surely you saw—"_

The sand mouse nodded—

"_And most of the Royal Chambers; we fought against it, but our strength was much diminished from the long ages of war. Many of the outer chambers are yet whole…but the most vital wings are tragically lost."_

Mozenrath held back the sigh; it was all for naught then, this.

Blast it all.

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If Sadira learned anything from the streets, it was this:

_Never give up._

When the guards were closing in, that's when the escape route always showed itself. When the melon seemed out of reach, a solution would show up.

A pit formed in her stomach when the sand hydra told her all the crucial documents were assuredly lost; she even saw the grim, _accepting_ look on the wizard's face.

But no; it wasn't over yet. She was determined to get this 'melon' too.

She took a steadying breath and gripped the scepter harder, thinking. "So, have you explored every chamber, is there any rooms that are too small for you to reach?"

"_We have searched; we are one, yes, but we are many as well."_

She saw the spark of curiosity light the wizard's eyes. She silently admitted the same; her scrolls on the Sand Hydra were incomplete.

Many and one?

"How?" she asked.

The behemoth creature seemed to suddenly…come apart!

Yelling before she could stop herself, Sadira leapt back, seeing the wizard glower suspiciously, but his pride kept his feet locked in place—blast him anyways.

The monster indeed did unravel…into hundreds of sand worms!

Sadira's jaw dropped. "You're sand worms? All of you," she breathed, incredulous.

Oh, she swelled with happiness; Jib was going to be soooo happy!

"Wait till Jib sees this," she told her overly-proud wizard.

"Jib?" one of the worms squealed in joy; a female apparently by her voice. Sadira watched a little pink worm wiggle up to her hurriedly. "Oh! Is he here? Is my nephew here?"

Sadira blinked. "You're…you're Jib's aunt?"

"I am, my lady," was the eager return, "I'm Mimu. Where is he?"

"On an errand," Sadira heard herself reply as she processed this latest surprise, "he's…my royal emissary now."

"Oh! How proud his mother must be!"

Sadira grinned. "She is." She pursed her lips together thoughtfully as the other sand worms congratulated Mimu on her nephew's promotion.

But, the wizard was apparently considering this a waste of time.

He stepped forward and got on one knee to reach Mimu better.

"These inner chambers that were lost," he asked the little worm, "we saw the Sanctum; but there are others, yes? Where are they?"

Sand worms didn't have eyes, per se, but Mimu jolted a little, as did all the others, at Mozenrath's question.

"We have missed a lot in the last millennia or so," Mimu whispered warily and then turned to Sadira, "my I ask, Highness, why you're with…a…uh?"

"Wizard of the Black Sand?" Mozenrath dryly supplied quirking a brow at her.

Sadira gestured to him, making certain her voice was clear and authoritative. "Mozenrath is a sorcerer of the black sand yes; but, I want you all to know that he's helping us overthrow Desdane…who survived the final battle—" she anticipated and got the gasps all around, "and that being the case; he's on our side. So, I expect you to treat him as one of us; no less, am I clear?"

She caught Mozenrath's smirk at the hundreds of slack-worm jaws that filled the chamber.

"But…Your Highness," one of the male worms chanced with a shocked tone, "this wizard could be a spy of Desdane's…he is surely an apprentice, no doubt replacing the other…we can't—"

Before Sadira could open her mouth to reprove any such notions, Mozenrath's eyes widened with rage, and he leapt to his feet—and ripped off the silk bandaging his bone arm.

"Look long at this," he snarled in fury, nostrils flaring, and gestured with his now exposed skeletal arm, "this is my 'reward' for being taken from my home as a small child and all but enslaved to the wretched man. Does this seem to any of you cause for loyalty? If you don't help us destroy Desdane; I care not, I'll kill him myself if it's the last thing I ever—"

Sadira rushed to him when she caught his eyes un-focusing and his voice rising as hot anger took him over. She hastily wrapped her arms around his as the anger consumed him enough that he was shaking with it.

"Calm down, calm down," she whispered soothingly, "we _will_ stop him; I swear we will, but you need to stay in control—"

His dark eyes, now blazing with rage, fastened onto her; his expression said plainly he was preparing to verbally tear into her.

"You can't help me like this," she said, more firmly, "you're the one who insisted you'd be the best choice to help me…and at length I agreed with you—"

Dark eyes flashed with surprise—

"But," she went on, tightening her grip on him and his lean body gradually stilled under her arms, "I need you to _focus_; please, you know we don't have a chance of winning without you."

That did it; the wizard seemed to snap out of his rage. The storm of anger left his eyes, and he shook his head, as if to clear it. Sadira kept a strong hold on him, just to be safe, as he swallowed and rubbed his brow; she forced herself to not start in astonishment when his bone arm slid around her waist, holding her closely.

She got the distinct impression he wasn't even aware of doing it.

A few moments passed before he swallowed again; when his gaze lifted from the floor, he made a point of not looking at her.

"We're wasting time here," he said stonily, taking in the sand worms, "we don't need their…'help.'" When he made to turn away, Sadira got her confirmation; he got caught on his arm…still embracing her tiny waist.

His gaze riveted to his arm…realization dawning on his face, along with a flush and widened eyes.

"I'm…" he started to apologize numbly—

"I believe him," Mimu cut in suddenly, everyone's attention reeling onto her.

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It was the first time Mozenrath truly questioned his sanity.

Despite years of beatings, abuse, mental torture and so on…he had never doubted in his mental fortitude, not outright. But, as he made to leave the sand witch's 'pets' behind only to discover his arm _wrapped _around her little waist…his _bone arm_, he had wondered.

That infernal street rat had brought more than one plague into his life…but the sand mouse.

He swallowed again; something about her….

What was she _doing_ to him?

"I believe him," the little worm called Mimu suddenly declared, which most definitely had caught him off guard…until he remembered, _really_ remembered what he had said to them—

And how he had behaved—

And how the incomprehensible sand mouse had _held onto him_ as he fell apart in front of them…and hadn't recoiled in disgust when he had—

No; it was best to not think about that.

The other sand worms were silent at her avowal though; not surprising.

"I do too," said the one who had accused him before.

"So do I," put in another.

All right; that was surprising.

Eventually, all the little worms threw in their lot; it was to…not be foreseen, granted—

But why did he feel so lightheaded all the sudden?

In his peripherals, he caught the sand mouse swallow, in happiness apparently because she was smiling widely a second later.

He forced himself to look away; her smiles were far too…intoxicating, he had discovered.

It hurt though; to not look at her.

He took a steadying breath; yes, he had reason to doubt his mental well-being, there was no question of that now.

Mimu wiggled forward. "My lady, I can take you and your…companion to the remaining royal chambers if you like; perhaps the Scepter of Queens will awaken something of use to you."

Well; that was certainly a possibility. Mozenrath allowed himself to be heartened at that.

The sand mouse brightened. "Oh; that would be marvelous."

The accusing worm wiggled to 'stand' beside Mimu. "I am Neb, your highness," he said very formally, "for many millennia Mimu and I were royal aides to the queen." He bowed his face to the sand and all the worms immediately mimicked his action.

"We," he went on, "the worms of the sand, pledge our eternal allegiance to you, Queen Sadira, and to your dynasty. We are your humble servants, for all time."

"Queen Sadira," all the worms echoed ceremoniously, faces still down.

Mozenrath didn't hold back the grin at her blushing face and obviously awkward body language. But, to her credit, she collected herself quickly.

"Th…thank you," she replied, clearing her throat, no doubt from being caught off guard by this, "I gratefully accept your offer." She straightened, going back into 'royal mode,' apparently and touched the scepter over Mimu and Neb's heads lightly. "Mimu and Neb, you will remain the royal aides; appoint whom you like to be your own assistants."

They started at that. "Thank you, my queen," Mimu answered.

"Now, I'll send Jib to you as soon as he returns from the Elixir Fortress; he'll inform you of the rest," she paused for a moment, her face thoughtful, "Desdane's spell locked you in here?"

They nodded.

"I'll break it so you can leave," she went on, "Jib can show you were I've been staying of late; are there any other allies you know of aside from the Fortress Guardians?"

"Oh, most assuredly," Mimu put in, and something…promising in her tone gave Mozenrath a flicker of…blast it all…_hope._

"Wonderful," was the mouse's enthusiastic reply, and with a loud declaration, stomped the scepter against the ground again, and Mozenrath felt something…_shatter_…in the air.

He watched with satisfaction as the evil shards of Desdane's spell wailed and cried their death throes as they fell from the air, dissolving from black smoke into nothing.

"We are free!" the worms shouted gleefully, dancing around in the sand.

Mozenrath snickered at the jubilation; he wouldn't fault them for it, reveling in a victory over Desdane.

And, there was something, twistedly endearing about the little creatures hopping and leaping around with total abandon.

He could see Xerxes doing it, so that made it condonable.

He felt a tug on his sleeve. Dark eyes met sapphire.

"Amusing pets you've acquired," he quipped at her. She was overdue for it, after all.

He chuckled at the mock put out look thrown at him in return. "I'm sure you'll bear it," she replied and glanced at them, "Mimu?"

"My queen?"

The mouse fidgeted at that; he snickered again and this time she batted his arm in rebuke.

Which earned her…another snicker.

"Where are the other chambers?"

Mimu perked up. "Follow me."

She hurriedly wiggled to the nearest doorway…when the chamber shook violently again.

The sand worms all re-assembled into the Sand Hydra and shielded their queen and Mozenrath with its armored body.

Mozenrath opened his mouth to ask what they thought it was…until the shock-wave of power pierced the chamber in blinding blue-black light and tore through his body.

And then he knew without doubt the source:

Desdane.

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**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed! Leave a review


	65. Chapter 65: The Ante-Chamber

**A/N: **Hahahaaha! I just wanna say I got some UBER hysterical reviews on the last chapter…you know who you are (esp. Jessenia!) and I want to say…thx. I was really sick today when uploading that chapter and the reviews super MADE my day! So, you guys are awesome as always; part of what's great about updating this fic is how I look SO forward to all your epic reviews! I won't deny it. So, here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 65: The Ante-Chamber_

Mozenrath watched as the sand mouse slowly waved the golden scepter over the floor, chests of who-knew-what and remnants of a royal chamber as the little pink worm who guided them sat on a pedestal near the wizard, keeping silent to not break her concentration.

After the shock-wave from the Land of the Black Sand had passed over them, it was more than clear that Desdane was already making some sort of progress in his war preparations—monumental progress by the taste of that horrible magic wave. Mozenrath had insisted time was against them now and so Mimu had led them to the Queen's bedchamber, which had been grand and majestic even in ruin, only to push an embossed carving against an ornate wall inward…and the wall swung open.

A secret antechamber; Mozenrath had restrained the startled breath.

This was it; he could feel it, surely—

He caught the hum of the scepter as the mouse rested it over a large chest of carved dark wood.

"Oh!" Mimu yelped excitedly and bolted off her seat, rushing to her queen's side.

Mozenrath held in the snicker as he drew near to them; thinking of all the delightful nicknames he could bestow on the sand mouse with 'queen' preceding them.

But later; for now he knelt down as the sand mouse huffed her bushy mane out of her face and used the diamond-shaped tip of the scepter to unlock the chest.

Apparently an ancient relic of untold powers could double as a lock-pick; who knew?

It creaked as she lifted the bejeweled lid and a puff of dust met them; Mozenrath uttered a word to dispel it and they peered in.

Aha!

Books and scrolls met their eyes; Mozenrath pursed his lips into a line. Surely something here would prove useful. Enchanted to withstand the ages as they clearly were and stored in a secret vault of royal make, there must be vital clues amongst their pages; the sand mouse lifted a scroll.

"These must be private documents of the final Queen," she surmised thoughtfully, "we'll take the chest back upstairs and start translating these; right after the wedding."

Mozenrath snorted. "I'll start _at once_; we don't have time to be distracted with the royal funeral."

The sand mouse only touched the chest again with the scepter and uttered a word; the chest shimmered rose and gold, shrinking to the size of a pebble.

Mozenrath cocked a brow, approving her ingenuity as she tucked it into her sash. She rose fluidly, and gave him a stoic look.

"You're not going to bait me that easily," she countered lightly, and fluffed her hair—as if it needed that!—adding, "besides; she's marrying Aladdin, not you."

Mozenrath grinned at how nimbly she turned that on him; fully aware he _should_ be angry, but somehow not caring. "You'll pay for that later," he indifferently said instead, making for the doorway, catching her dubious 'uh-huh' as she moved to follow.

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The trip back was uneventful; Karonon returned them to the exact spot he had first appeared, Mozenrath disembarked the boat first and reflexively reached back, hoisting the sand mouse onto the embankment beside him. He pretended to not see her surprised blink as she turned back and gave Karonon another gold coin. He bowed to the mouse as she smiled and patted his shoulder before heading for the stairs.

For some reason, Mozenrath couldn't bring himself to follow. He looked back at the Ferryman, and to his amazement, wondered what would become of him now.

Would he just remain below ground, forever?

He realized the boatman was staring back at him with those hollow sockets and felt a surge of that…_truly awful_ emotion: pity.

What was _wrong_ with him!? Just because the being is completely _bone_ doesn't mean he should feel any kind of…_anything_ for the creature.

Except, he did; he didn't really know why, he wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to know why…but he did.

How long had the Ferryman been here all alone before they had arrived? At least the worms had each other; who did he have?

A terrible pain lanced through him…a shadow of the agonizing loneliness that was his daily companion before Xerxes entered his life.

"Are you coming?"

He jolted back to himself and turned; the sand mouse was lingering on a step, watching him with…too much knowing in her face.

Curses; how did she keep doing that!?

He forced on a mask of nonchalance, and gestured lazily to the boatman. "What of your Ferryman?" his tone was thankfully neutral and slightly put out.

The sand mouse only folded her arms, her face a portrait of: _"I'm not buying it."_ "What of him?"

"You intend to simply leave him here?"

"Of course; he looks after the River, it's his job. If he leaves the River, he'll die."

He _what_?

"He…dies," Mozenrath carefully repeated. "Meaning?"

And there it was: the sympathetic look she offered the Ferryman, before re-closing the distance between herself and the wizard, threading her arm into his and pulling him gently away.

She stopped after a few steps; returning her gaze to Karonon.

"You know I'll help you, in any way I can, right?" she hesitantly asked.

Karonon only nodded with another bow; Mozenrath could have sworn he saw a tiny smile ghost across the Ferryman's face. He let the sand mouse tug him to the stairs.

As they began their ascent, Mozenrath peered back, just in time to see Karonon with his boat vanish back into the curtains of fog.

Unwillingly, he wondered if a fate similar awaited him one day, before vigorously shaking it from his mind.

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"What did your 'glorious' Order do, to bind him to the River so?" he couldn't keep the bite from his voice, but for some reason, the sand mouse had stopped reacting to his sharp tones.

The sand mouse sighed. "It was long ago, even before the War; the records about him are scanty at best," she dropped her head, Mozenrath thought either in embarrassment or shame. "I…wasn't even certain he was still around. He was documented more as a legend than anything." She sighed, the sound part frustrated, part resigned and went on. "The legend goes that Karonon was the ruler of this kingdom before the Witches of the Sand took over; some of the legends say he was evil and they overthrew him, some say he was a good, but didn't trust the witches and so fought against them…there are a hundred different renditions of the story."

"Which is most likely, based on the records? The evidence?"

She pulled on her fluffy hair thoughtfully and Mozenrath was about to make a snide comment about 'premature balding' when realization struck:

He was getting tired.

Confounded stairs; easier to descend than mount…and he could feel the potions wearing off.

Blast it all.

The sand witch suddenly halted; Mozenrath caught himself before walking into her.

"You're not going to remark about a 'woman's delicateness' if I say I want to rest a few minutes, are you?" she abruptly said.

He faltered for just a second before: "I suppose not."

As she plopped down, leaning against the wall and starting an exposé on the most likely origins of the Ferryman, Mozenrath slowly let his back slide against the blissfully cool stone to sit beside her.

He was fully aware she wasn't tired; her breathing was unlabored, there was no sweat on her brow, her steps had been soundless and light as they had been walking but moments ago.

So…how had she known? Mozenrath forced his mind to stay focused on her commentary, and noted to himself that even with her scanty sources, she had drawn some interesting and plausible conclusions; clearly she didn't mean to simply abandon the being to the dark corridors of the Old Palace.

For some reason, that revelation came as a relief; Mozenrath didn't let himself explore why though.

He also didn't let himself wonder why the sand mouse _didn't_ ask him why he troubled himself with the Ferryman either.

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When they returned at last to Jafar's chambers, Xerxes all but pounced on them with Rajah right behind.

"Xerxes find something first! Xerxes find first! Xerxes—"

The tiger was making insistent sounds that were no doubt contesting Xerxes and saying he in fact found something first.

Mozenrath was about to ask what difference it made till Rajah bit at Xerxes…only to have the eel snap back and then gloat: "Tiger only jealous that Xerxes won."

Mozenrath folded his arms expectantly as the mouse only chuckled and made to inspect their findings.

Xerxes noticed his expression and pouted. "Xerxes tell tiger Xerxes will find important thing first—"

The tiger made a disparaging noise.

Xerxes glowered down at it. "And Xerxes _did_. Tiger can deny but Xerxes did."

Mozenrath caught the amused sputter that slipped out of the sand mouse; Xerxes didn't.

The wizard shook his head. "You and the tiger can hash this out later; let us return to the street rat's chamber. We have translating to do; you and the tiger can race over that if you wish."

Sadira scooped up the findings and the magicians headed for the door; the tiger threw Xerxes a smug look.

Xerxes stuck his tongue out at Rajah. "Tiger only jealous; Xerxes won."

Rajah only made a sarcastic snort and followed after the mages.

Xerxes flicked his tail in annoyance. "Xerxes _did_ win."

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Mozenrath sat back upon the bed he first awoke in, a leather book rimmed in gold sitting on his lap. It was hard to concentrate on what it might be, with the sand mouse running her little hand over his face to check for fever; in fact he now knew exactly how many callouses were on each of her otherwise perfectly soft hands…and had to remind himself there were seven locks perfectly crafted into the book's spine and around its out cover…and oh yes: how were they to _unlock_ them?

In the far corners of his mind, it registered that he was no longer uncomfortable with her touching him.

"It'll probably be a puzzle of sorts," he mused aloud as she stood at the small table again, and heard the clinking of glassware as she prepared another elixir. "Your sand order had no shortage of tricks and riddles."

"It kept Desdane at bay for ages," was the even reply, "you have to use the methods that work," she paused, as if reconsidering her words in face of to _whom_, precisely she was speaking and added, "within reason, of course."

Mozenrath said nothing; there was nothing to say. The street rat's words came back to him that forgiveness was a daunting task for Mozenrath to face-considering he'd never done it before.

He exhaled sharply and made a point to not think of the endless plethora of reasons to _not_ forgive; Desdane or his father. He squeezed his eyes shut against the morbid collage that wanted to dance jeeringly across his memories.

No; he had to keep his mind focused on the present…or he wouldn't be alive to ever mull over his revolting past for much longer.

He swallowed the lump of gall that formed in his throat. The fact was; the street rat was right: he never forgave…and he didn't foresee a time when that would ever change. He silently confessed that he craved the peace that he saw exuding out of the street mouse; he desperately longed for the freedom that radiated out of her, but he had realized how exactly she had attained that soulful liberation: she had let go, in other words, forgave.

She had forgiven the circumstances that had sealed her years of suffering, she had forgiven the guards for simply doing their duty, and she had forgiven all the people who probably saw her need but never offered any sort of help or relief.

But…could he do the same?

Mozenrath doubted it. He considered; perhaps…perhaps after he had had his vengeance, after he had seen his father pay for abandoning him and his brother; after he watched Desdane die at his feet…then he could let go.

The faint taste of something sweet formed on his tongue; the possibility of freedom.

"You seem deep in thought."

He blinked; the street mouse stood in front of him; a cup of some dark rose liquid in her hands.

"There is no shortage of things to consider," was the vague reply.

He made a point of not reacting to the twisted-lip look she returned his way.

He took the cup with a soft 'thank you,' and Xerxes meandered over to them after several minutes of scrounging through the chest the sand mouse had restored upon their return.

"Many relics, master," he said by way of greeting, "Xerxes see some tools for translate."

Mozenrath nodded, sipping the elixir. "Good; we'll need them."

"I brought other runes and such too," the sand mouse added, putting her supplies away, "the wedding is going to start in a few minutes; but I doubt you'll want to simply rest while I'm gone."

Mozenrath emptied the cup and set it down beside him. "I'll be resting after the war is over…one way or another."

Xerxes gulped.

Sadira gave him a reproving look at that. "You're such an optimist."

"You be the optimist. I prefer to be a realist."

The sand mouse sputtered at that. "You're too cynical to be a realist." She waved her hand over the small table and silvery sand fell from her palm.

A golden bowl of pears sat where the sand vanished a moment later.

"Owwwww," Xerxes awed in approval. He flew over to the pears and sniffed them.

"Perfect ripe; perfect fresh," he appraised.

Mozenrath gave her a question by way of arched brow.

She shrugged casually. "In case you get hungry."

Observant mouse; apparently the streets were exacting teachers indeed.

"You're quite thorough," was all he said.

Another shrug, "It helps."

She made for the door, only to have it swing open and the guards' voices wafted in. They were trying to dissuade someone from entering, albeit unsuccessfully.

It was the princess.

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**A/N: **OK, Jessenia, here you go; the next chapter. Now you don't have to wait till next Tues! LOL; to everyone else, thanks for your spectacular reviews! I do enjoy them Uber much! Till next time!


	66. Chapter 66: the Key & the Diadem

**A/N: **OK, so I've got a bit of a reprieve from the homework…which means updates! We're sitting at about 11,370 readers…which my brain when into 'error message' mode at about 9,500 readers…so I'm just accepting but not fully processing the awesomeness of you loyal readers out there who make this so much fun!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 66: The Key & the Diadem _

Mozenrath couldn't help but blink in astonishment when the princess floated in, her eyes wide and bright as she greeted them with: "I just couldn't wait to see what you found! How was it down there?"

She was stunning; the absolute perfection of what a princess could ever _hope_ to be—and more.

He made a point of looking away, gesturing to the chest Xerxes had returned to out of insatiable curiosity. "We found some promising relics; thankfully. I'll let the sand mouse tell you about all of her new 'subjects.'"

The mouse threw him a weathering look; the princess likewise.

"Sand mouse?"

"My new 'subjects'?"

Mozenrath was waiting with a grin to see which would verbally attack first…when they both were cut off by an exuberant: "Ooooooooooow!"

Xerxes glided over eagerly, his mismatched eyes intent and wide and he flew around the princess.

"Owww, pretty princess; princess so pretty," he appraised in awe.

The princess giggled and patted Xerxes on the head. "Well, at least you have good taste in friends," the princess quipped, glancing at Mozenrath with a raised brow.

Mozenrath snickered. "Oh; I get no credit for Xerxes, princess."

"Why not?"

"Cause Xerxes choose master," the eel put in proudly, as if it were his greatest achievement. He rubbed his head against the princess's hand before flying over to the wizard and wrapping around his shoulders. "Master no choose Xerxes."

"And that would be why," the wizard smoothly concluded, petting Xerxes' head; the eel gleefully leaned into his hand.

The mouse sidled up beside the princess. "Hmmm," she appraised, her tone conspiring in some way Mozenrath couldn't pin down, "offering friendship to undeserving people; well, you'd know about that, Jaz."

The princess frowned reprovingly at her with a twisted lip; that expression looked so much cuter on the sand mouse, Mozenrath decided-

And a second later blinked at the _absurdity_ of the thought; he hoped this madness would end soon and he could resume normal life…before what was left of his sanity was gone forever.

The princess made her way to the open chest after shaking her head at the mouse…over whatever her vague words meant. Mozenrath thought back to her admission about the street rat and his 'entourage' offering her friendship that she didn't deserve.

That had to be it.

"Oh, you found so many fascinating things," the princess said, picking up a stone rune and turning it over in her hands excitedly.

He caught the sand mouse give her a rebuking look. "You know, Jaz, I heard that a _wedding _was supposed to take place today—"

Mozenrath chuckled.

"You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?" the mouse hinted.

"Oh, Sadira," the princess said dismissively, "the wedding's not for a few minutes yet; the pavilion's not far from here, there's time enough."

Mozenrath shrugged at the sand mouse's disapproving look. "Well, at least the princess has her priorities in order."

Xerxes chuckled. The sand mouse rolled her eyes at him.

"I won't be late," the princess firmly avowed, walking up to them holding one of the stones and threw Mozenrath a glower.

"You want me to conjure something for you to hit him with?" the mouse lightly asked, putting the rest of her supplies into the brown satchel and withdrawing the translation tools she had mentioned to him before.

The princess gave him a mock thoughtful look. He only smirked.

"No; you hit me," the wizard indifferently countered, turning to the mouse, "the princess prefers to _kick_ me…and contradict me as well."

The mouse gave the princess an incredulous expression—then started laughing.

"Oh…why can I so _see_ it?"

The princess, to his surprise, blushed; but covered it by folding her arms and quirking her mouth. "Well, I guess I _can't_ contradict _that_," she tried to sound casual…but kept tossing warning glances to the mouse.

Hmmm; interesting. Why?

The sand mouse stifled her humor and tossed a knowing expression to the princess…who reddened more.

"Sa…dir…a," she warned.

"I won't say a word," the mouse promised, giggling and throwing her arms up in surrender; but sputtered out more laughter before catching herself. "But…it is nice to be _vindicated_."

"Sadira!"

Oh; but this was getting more interesting by the moment. What were they speaking of?

Clearly something they had discussed before…something that embarrassed the princess.

That alone made it intriguing.

The princess apparently decided enough was enough. "What is this?" she asked no one in particular, holding up the stone.

"A Master Key," the wizard supplied, taking the opportunity to examine how well she looked now that she was standing practically within reach.

For some reason, he wondered how the sand mouse would look in that lovely gown.

He pushed the thought away.

"All right, a Master Key," the princess repeated, "like the one on your map, Sadira?"

"Similar," the sand mouse agreed, "but this one goes to…"she picked it up and turned it over, reading the symbols; her eyes widened.

"The Imperial Chronicles?" the mouse eventually said, her eyes wide. She pointed to one of the symbols. "Look, this symbol—"

She snatched the book from Mozenrath's lap. "It's the same," she said at length, "see? See how the symbols match up?"

Mozenrath felt his stomach fall into his boots. "The Imperial Chronicles.…"he echoed, musing, "They were written by the Queen and the Royal Chronicler, were they not?"

"Yes," the mouse excitedly affirmed, "oh, this might tell us what happened to close the Old War!"

"You pets below-level may have told us that," Mozenrath dryly put in.

She handed him a look to match his tone. "Actually, Desdane cursed the Hydra near the war's end to not be able to leave the Royal Chambers, so they saw basically nothing…_as_ Mimu told us."

"Regardless; they may have—"

"I'll ask Jib to question them later, if you want."

"I _do_ want," was the flat rebuttal.

"So," the princess cut-in, scathing them both with a glower—

"So, nothing," the mouse said, taking the stone from the princess and giving it and the book to Mozenrath before pushing the princess towards the door, "so, you go get married; the wedding's going to begin any minute, meanwhile the bride's here—"

Xerxes chuckled; Mozenrath grinned at the princess's put out face.

"Oh, don't pester her so," he couldn't help but barb, "you can't blame the princess for tarrying; it shows she has sense."

"I'm not tarrying," the princess objected, half letting the mouse lead her to the door; Mozenrath couldn't help but trail behind.

This was far too entertaining.

"How did you even know to come?" the mouse asked, half frustrated.

The princess grinned. "I had Rajah come get me when you returned."

Oh; the wizard intuited, so that's where the tiger disappeared off to as they walked back to the street rat's room.

He had been re-wrapping his arm when he realized the tiger had vanished.

"Well, enough dallying; go get married." The mouse yanked the heavy door open. Four guards all spun around—and all fixated on Mozenrath. The wonderful taste of opportunity filled his mouth.

"Are you certain you wish this princess?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock worry, "After all, you're far too exquisite to waste yourself on a street rat."

He didn't catch Sadira's flinch; but Xerxes did.

The guards all glowered threateningly; one drew his sword. The princess only twisted her lips at him and raised a hand to stall the guards.

"If you're going to suggest—"

"Myself as a replacement?" he actually laughed; "No. You kick me enough as it is," he gestured though to Xerxes, "however; I could turn Xerxes into a strong, handsome prince—"

Xerxes actually perked at that—

"After all he already thinks your beautiful, didn't he say so? And he'd be a very loyal husband."

"Enough of these insults!" one of the guards yelled and lunged at the wizard…only to fall right through him.

Silk hit him a second later. He glared at the mouse…now again holding a pillow.

"Stop being a nuisance," she chided sharply.

The princess giggled. "I'm going," she glanced at Xerxes.

"You know, Xerxes, I'd consider you if I weren't going to marry Aladdin," she said amiably.

Xerxes looked ready to fall over from swooning. "Really? Really?!"

"Oh, yes; after all, I tolerate your master just for you already; you're worth it."

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. The mouse laughed.

Xerxes fainted.

"If we survive the war princess," he acidly snarked, "you'll pay for that. I promise you."

The princess didn't look convinced; but the guards did. Their expressions could have melted steel.

The princess smoothed her veil. "I'll keep it in mind," she indifferently countered and looked at Sadira. "Coming?"

"In a minute."

The princess nodded and with a smile to the guards, who all bowed…and a few gawked at her as she disappeared down the corridor.

The mouse pulled the door shut.

As soon as it clanked, she rounded on Mozenrath, her expression annoyed, angst-filled—and therefore very _cute_.

"Did you have fun?"

The wizard didn't hold back the grin as he stooped down to collect Xerxes. "Actually, I did."

His tone was devoid of remorse. He rose majestically; Xerxes scooped up in his arms. "The guards are always _so very_ amusing."

She only let out a resigned noise and made for the small table. "Please; at least try to behave while I'm gone. Don't torment the guards _too_ much," her exaggerated tone only widened his grin.

"I'll try."

She glanced behind to toss him an _'I doubt it'_ look before pulling out a grey bag from her satchel.

"Are you going to stand with the princess?" he asked, not certain why.

The mouse flinched again—this one he saw. "No."

"Why ever not? Are you not her close friend?"

"I'm a street rat," she said as if that should explain it.

He threw his one arm up; holding Xerxes in the other. "She's marrying a street rat!" He took a disdainful breath. "And what of that 'gracious pardon' the sultan gave you?"

"I'm not going to embarrass Jasmine on her wedding day," the mouse said with finality, and opened the grey bag, drawing out something from it as it rested on her palm.

Silvery sand: it fairly glinted like diamonds in the sunlight; she threw it over her with a whispered command.

Mozenrath watched as it seemed to melt over her like sheets of crystal; it molded to her garb…leaving finery behind.

The mouse was now donned in an emerald green topped trimmed with gold embroidery and wide sleeves of translucent green material. Her toned midriff was bare; and a floor-length skirt of emerald silk and layers of the same translucent material was visible where the sides were slit.

Her poofed mane was done up in flowers and gold adornments; she wore armlets, anklets and gold bracelets; her bare feet were now covered in gold slippers.

"My, but you clean up rather nice," Mozenrath said before he could think the better of it.

"Thanks," was the dry reply. "I get no remarks about dressing like a magician after all?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"No."

Mozenrath chuckled at her audacity. He gestured at her. "This would be considered embarrassing? Her groom is embarrassment enough anyways."

To his surprise…she blushed a little. Xerxes shook his head, waking up. He saw the mouse.

"Oooow, sand witch pretty too," he declared, flying over to her and loitering around her to look at her new clothes. "Sand witch pretty like princess."

The blush deepened. She patted his head. "You're sweet, Xerxes."

Mozenrath's eyes narrowed at the vulnerability in her voice. Ah; she often hears the princess's beauty commented on, but not her own.

Mozenrath mulled over that; originally, he had thought her pretty enough, but of course nothing to the princess…but now, he had to reassess that conclusion.

Having gotten to know her better…not to mention how—he gulped unwillingly—captivating she looked in her new raiment…he silently confessed he had been wrong.

The princess was elegant, carrying the classical beauty of a royal. The sand mouse…she was different. With her bushy mane, mysterious eyes and strong body, she held a wild and untamed beauty; something far too exotic and free to be caged in walls of marble.

He riveted back to himself as she reminded him to behave and headed for the door.

"Uh, aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

She paused and turned around. "You don't expect me to curtsy or something before leaving, do you?"

Her tone was hilarious; he bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

Xerxes did though. Mozenrath didn't mind, this once.

"No," he drawled out and she looked at him dubiously, "but, you should wear some sort of diadem or royal headdress."  
A blank look was his reward. "Uh…why?"

Neither of them noticed the little peach worm appear out of a crack in the wall by the small table and come over to the bedside.

Xerxes sniffed the air; detecting him.

"I'm not wearing an anything," the mouse countered.

Mozenrath's hands flew up again. "You are the Inheritor, you represent a dynasty that lasted thousands of years and survives in _you alone_. That makes you royal by magical standards."

He gestured and a diadem appeared in his hands, made of clear and golden diamonds; all totally flawless. He strode over and placed it on her head without preamble.

She took it off and handed it back to him.

He put it back on her head. "Wear it. You're a queen."

She took it off. "I'm not."

He put it back on her. "You are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Xerxes' head veered from side to side as he watched lost on what to do.

"Oh, would you too stop it!" a voice came from…the floor?

They both looked down.

"Jib!" the mouse exclaimed.

"He's right you know," Jib said as the mouse rushed to him, and she blinked in surprise, "You're a queen; wear the blasted tiara."

The mouse looked regretful. "Jib; I'm not really a queen."

Jib straightened, annoyed. "Oh? Should I tell the guardians that? And _my aunt_? They pledged their fealty to _you_, you know, _my queen_."

The mouse's countenance became guilt-ridden. "I…I know; but—"

"There is no 'but.'"

"I have no kingdom; no realm. How am I supposed to provide for them?" Her face became near-panic-stricken.

"Mozenrath hauled her to her feet; she had knelt down beside her friend. "Worry about that when and if we live through this. Go watch the princess throw her life away; there will be crying at this wedding; a pity it won't be for the right reason."

"Xerxes can change into Aladdin," the eel put in, "can marry princess instead."

"Xerxes," the mouse chided. Mozenrath looked thoughtful. The mouse swatted him.

"Don't you even," she warned and then her gaze shifted to the Elixir Goblet. She gestured and it floated over to her outstretched hand. She gave it to Jib; who amazingly enough, could carry it without strain.

"Here Jib; take this back to the Guardians. Are the hydra worms at my ruin?"

"Yep; I told them to eat the leftover soup. I'll bring them up to speed after this."

"Good," the mouse replied, and glanced up at Mozenrath. "And, if you could ask them for all the details on the final battle too."

Jib nodded. "Already planned on it."

Mozenrath offered him an approving look at that.

The mouse rose, dusted off her garb. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be late."

Her sapphire eyes locked back onto Jib.

"Go watch the princess marry, my queen," the worm insisted, "I'll take care of the rest for now."

Mozenrath got another '_behave yourself'_ look. He only grinned at her.

"Give the princess my condolences," he quipped. The mouse only sighed and walked out.

Mozenrath's grin widened—

She'd forgotten she was still wearing the diadem.

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**A/N: **I made this chapter longer on purpose so we're that much closer to the wedding! Hang on folks; we're almost there! Enjoy; plz review!


	67. Chapter 67: The Wedding

**A/N: **OK, so for anyone wondering the 'blushing' that Jasmine was doing over Sadira's teasing in the last chapter was an allusion to the chapter after "Sand Falcons" where Sadira prods her for having a 'history' with Mozenrath. I wasn't sure if that was too far back now for y'all to readily connect to or no. Anyhow; we're sitting at 11,470 readers to date! Wow! *Oh, and ASJJohnson, here's your 2nd chapter today! I expect a nice review! LOL; anyhow, Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 67: The Wedding_

As the large door creaked shut behind the sand mouse, Mozenrath felt his focus be overwhelmed completely by the girl. There was something so strong and purposeful about her stride, and that dress certainly brought out her…finer features.

His mouth dried at the thought of what a fine queen she _would _make….

A murky picture of their victory formed in his thoughts…he would return to the Land of the Black Sand….

He wondered fleetingly if she would accompany him.

"_I'm not a queen…I have no kingdom…."_

He could give her that.

A sigh slipped out before he could stop it.

"Yeah, I know," the worm agreed his tone hard, and Mozenrath was roughly jarred from his thoughts.

What…what had he been _thinking!?_

His throat closed.

"It's so frustrating," the worm called Jib went on, apparently not seeing what had consumed the wizard's mind, "maybe now that you're here, another magic-worker can talk some _sense _into her."

"A daunting task," Mozenrath heard himself say; well, at least part of his senses was still intact.

Jib sputtered. "You're telling me; do you know _how much time_ I've spent just trying to get through to her!? But…she keeps saying she has no royal blood, she has no kingdom, blah, blah, blah…." The worm sighed. "We need a ruler; not land."

"You need both," the wizard corrected, rising.

"We need a queen first; land can come later."

"But it will need to come."

"After Sadira wakes up and realizes she is a queen."

"Sand witch _is_ queen," Xerxes said as though it should be obvious to the world; he was eyeing the bowl of pears, licking his chops. Mozenrath sighed.

"Go ahead, Xerxes."

The eel fairly swan-dived into the bowl and one of the pears fell out, landing near Jib.

"Uh, well, I am kinda hungry," the worm said after dodging collision.

"Go ahead," the wizard said distractedly, conjuring a table near the bed where he could work.

He gestured and the chest levitated itself over to him; he emptied its contents and methodically spread them out upon the dark wood tabletop. Each he placed in a section based upon the markings it wore and what he guessed its purpose to be. It was the same method he used in his own domain—and it always worked.

Carefully examining each book and scroll he found the scrolls were sealed with a wax 'lock' and each book with a metal outer frame containing multiple locks tastefully woven into the winding designs to merely pass as part of the ornamentation. The wax-work and ribbon—which proved to be harder than iron—were all inscribed with some sort of rune-work; a challenging undertaking indeed, Mozenrath noted.

Behind him, he overheard Xerxes and Jib fighting over the fallen pear.

"Hey, eel-boy; that's mine! I want a bite before I leave!"

"Xerxes give you bite," was the low, menacing reply, followed by the loud snapping of Xerxes' sharp teeth, and Jib's "Hey!" in response.

"Wizard! Do something with your crazy pet eel!"

"Xerxes not crazy; Xerxes _hungry_…have pear, or have worm."

"Xerxes," Mozenrath admonished in a telling voice. He heard the eel's defeated pout followed by:

"Ha! Good thing you don't work for Sadira; how would she keep you fed?"

"Sand witch make good food…and Xerxes better worker than _little tiny_ worm."

"Ohhh?" was the angry come-back. "You think so?"

Mozenrath didn't turn around to see them literally nose to nose now, both with teeth bared.

A raspy laugh. "Know so."

"You two are distracting me," the wizard barbed, "keep it up and I'll turn you both _into_ pears."

Blissful silence reigned.

"That's better," the wizard snarked.

After the little worm had his 'bite' and took the Elixir off, Mozenrath soaked in the quiet to think.

Xerxes glided up beside him. "Master?"

"Yes?"

"Why you not go wedding?"

"You mean to patronize our hero?" his tone was deadpan.

"Patronize hero fun."

Mozenrath snickered. "Indeed, but waiting is better."

"Wait for what?"

Mozenrath set down the book he was scrutinizing. "For the inevitable." He glanced at Xerxes, who looked bemused. The wizard sighed.

"This is _Aladdin_ we're talking about…what is the natural thing that's going to happen at his wedding?" his tone was diabolical. He glanced at Xerxes out of the corner of his eye—

His expression was deviously reveling.

"Who follows Aladdin wherever he goes, Xerxes?"

His tone revealed to the eel that this was a riddle. He thought a moment and it struck. He chuckled. "Trouble."

"Indeed; _catastrophe_ more specifically and so, all we need do is wait. Any wedding Aladdin's the groom of, catastrophe is a guest for certain; we need only wait for it to arrive. Then; we enjoy the show." He grinned in anticipation; Xerxes thought for a moment and then mirrored his countenance.

With that, he leaned back, looked over the runes again, and he and Xerxes set to work…and waited.

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Sadira normally was totally aware of her surroundings at all times: who was where, who was looking at her, where the nearest escape routes…er…_exits_ were and so forth.

Her upbringing 'encouraged' that on occasion.

But, as she made her way down the breathtaking corridors of the palace to the wedding pavilion, Sadira found it hard to concentrate on the nuptials.

Why did that aggravating wizard not leave her mind? Why did his words, his expressions…even his snobbish walk fly around in her head like a swarm of deranged locusts?

After all, there was no reason for him to monopolize her thoughts. It's not as though it _mattered_ to her that he complimented the princess, using words like "exquisite" and said that she was wasting herself on Aladdin and only remarked to her that she "cleaned up well." It didn't _bother_ her that he was eyeing Jasmine blatantly when she was asking about the Key Stone. And she definitely did not feel any jealousy when Mozenrath offered to 'save' Jasmine from marrying Aladdin (granted he offered Xerxes as a replacement) and that the only reason he gave for declining himself was that Jasmine 'kicked him enough already.'

No; it didn't bother her at all that Mozenrath was fully aware she was low and Jasmine was high and so being a ruler himself he would naturally notice someone of _equal rank_ (aka not her). And the fact that considering other commoners like Aladdin didn't want her certainly killed any possibility of someone as polished and high-born as Mozenrath definitely didn't hurt at all!

Nope; she wasn't tearing up. She wasn't; she wasn't, she _wasn't_….

Oh, who was she kidding; she was.

Sniffle.

She flicked her wrist and a green handkerchief appeared and she furiously wiped her eyes.

This was pathetic. What was she thinking!? There was a _war_ coming; she was the only mage that lived in Agrabah, and so by default this kingdom was her responsibility, yet here she was, weeping like some desert waif over something that could never be.

Ow; she couldn't stop the wince at that, or the pain that lanced her stomach clean through.

Could…never…be. She just had to accept it.

The problem was; she didn't _want_ to accept it.

She blew out a centering breath. This was stupid; she was a queen now. Whether she accepted that or not, others did; others who depended on her: Jib, Mimu, Neb and the rest, they looked to her now for leadership…and soon for survival.

The Order of the Sand Witches had failed against Desdane; and here she was about to challenge him again—to restart the war essentially…and she was but _one_.

Yeah; she had other things to focus on besides the wizard upstairs, like how would they stay alive in the upcoming days?

The wedding would prove the perfect place to sift out new allies…and perhaps overhear word of more possibilities in the Seven Deserts.

Weddings never lacked for gossip; even if most of it was worthless, there were always a few nuggets that gleamed through.

She rounded the corner and there was the majestic pavilion, rising tall into the clear azure skies.

In spite of everything, Sadira had to grin at genie's handiwork. 'Domestic' magic or no, he was as dependable as the coming dawn. No matter what, he always came through.

She sighed and advanced, keeping her head high. At least in this gown, her street mouse background would be concealed. Aladdin stood before the altar, garbed in ivory and gold. He caught a glimpse of her and smiled. Sadira felt a reeling moment as she realized she was on the long carpet, walking forward…towards Aladdin.

For a moment she imagined, she remembered….

But, a lump formed in her throat when it hit her Aladdin _wasn't_ the one she wanted to see standing there….

She forced a smile as she came to stand beside a very tall, large man with an auburn mustache who she knew was a friend of Aladdin's from far away but couldn't remember where.

She didn't notice the worried look Al gave her as she turned away to take in the other wedding guests.

She hadn't caught any of the whispers amongst the guests, inquiring to each other over who she was and whether or not she was married; she completely missed the plethora of male guests remarking over her extravagant beauty.

All she could think about was how hopeless she was to trade in one impossible crush for an even more impossible crush.

She was hopeless, it was just that simple.

She suddenly wanted to be very far away from weddings and anything that had to do with love and romance.

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When the bride's maids entered, one by one, decked out in amethyst and lavender gowns, Abu and Iago perched one on each of Sadira's shoulders to get a better look; Carpet sidled up beside her and Genie stood near Aladdin, wearing a black tux, complete with top hat. Abu was wearing an ivory outfit to match Al's, Iago and Carpet came in their usual 'attire.'

Sadira felt a tiny smile tug at her lips; she was happy, really, for her friends. It just didn't lesson the pain of knowing she'd always be a spectator at _another happy couple's_ wedding.

She'd never have her own. Across the aisle, she caught Razoul and some other guards keeping vigil. She didn't miss the dark glower the head guard aimed her way. She grinned.

At least she'd get some amusement out of this; she gave Razoul her most dazzling and mesmerizing smile, complete with batting eyes.

Ohhhh; if looks could murder, his return glare would have done her in at least 1,000 times over!

She chuckled; totally oblivious to those who appreciated her smile for entirely other reasons.

Iago didn't miss it though. He nudged Sadira. "Tone it down, there is such a bad thing as _wrong_ attention you know."

Sadira only sputtered, missing his point. "That was the idea, _you know_."

"I mean with other—"

Then Jasmine entered and everyone gasped. Sadira caught the 'wow' that Aladdin breathed, his expression completely overwhelmed by his bride.

Sadira didn't pay attention to how her intuition was suddenly uneasy; she chalked it off as wedding envy.

Overhead, no one saw Sahid give the signal as the other thieves within line of sight caught it and passed the signal on.

All of the thieves moved in, including those in charge of the distraction.

They got the elephant ready…then turned it loose.

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**A/N: **OK, so the wedding's on! And here come the thieves! LOL! We're finally there folks! I expect reviews for this! JK :P But I'd still be very happy if you did anyways…. BTW, the bit about Sadira standing next to the tall man w/ mustache is from Al and KOT; if you look at Sadira at that part of the movie—she's wearing a pink dress I think—she's standing next to that man; he's from the TV series…something to do w/ cheese; but I don't remember his name. Enjoy!


	68. Chapter 68: Nightmares & Revenge

**A/N: **OK, so cause I really want to keep this momentum going; here's another chapter! Enjoy! Plz review! Onward….

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 68: Nightmares and Revenge_

Sadira could've sworn it was scripted that all of the 'men' began crying at the same time. Abu let out a 'oh yeah!' in his squeaky voice as Al and Jaz met at the base of the wedding altar and the sultan tearfully joined their hands together.

"It's so magical," Genie whispered, having come to stand by her and the others, "I'm not gonna cry…I'm not," and then he burst into tears, which set off Abu; Sadira was sure that Carpet was even 'crying' in his own way.

What shocked her was Iago began crying when the sultan said, "I once feared this day would never come and now that it has…I fear it's come too soon."

"Oh, father," Jaz affectionately said, kissing him on the cheek.

Sadira got teary at that, and watched them ascend to the altar together to say their vows.

"Hey, bird man," Genie said, poofing them all Kleenexes, "I didn't peg you for a wedding crier."

Iago snatched a Kleenex and blew his nose…er…beak. "They said I couldn't keep a present!" he blubbered in anguish.

Sadira only rolled her eyes, and helped herself to a Kleenex.

Genie gave her a knowing look; and leaned to say just loud enough for her to hear:

"You know, we'll be doing this at your wedding before long."

Sadira was too gloomy to start at his insight. "Really? Who with?"

"Ohhhhh," Genie replied confidently, "you've been getting plenty of looks over since you've walked in."

Sadira sighed as Al and Jaz began taking their vows. "That's the problem; I keep getting looked _over_: over me, around me…but never _at_ me."

Genie opened his mouth to object, but Sadira lifted a hand to forestall him. "Look, Genie, you're really sweet; really, but I shouldn't be thinking about myself. This is Al and Jaz's day; we should be thinking just about them."

He put a big, blue arm around her. "That's the spirit; Sadira, you're a good friend."

And, why did his vote of confidence only make her feel _worse_?

She tried her best to look happy as their friends joined their lives together.

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Xerxes was happy he knew how to read; he liked being of use to his master…especially when his master overexerted himself enough to fall asleep, leaving Xerxes to read alone.

Xerxes didn't mind; not hardly. The fact was his master was _always_ driving himself to exhaustion. Yes; the gauntlet had taken much of his strength and vitality, but Mozenrath had done his best to help the gauntlet's ugly work along by depriving himself of food, sleep and moderation at every turn.

Xerxes had wondered many times if his master was deliberately trying to destroy himself; he gulped at the thought. The worst part was; he couldn't discount it outright.

So, as his master's eyes had drooped and he muttered to Xerxes he just wanted to take a couple minutes to clear his head, Xerxes had offered to keep reading…and when his master dropped off into sleep, Xerxes had sort of…'forgotten' to wake him.

Until he turned a page…and there it was: a spell to open the Book of Imperial Chronicles!

He rushed to his master to wake him.

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Mozenrath hated sleeping, because when he slept, he had dreams.

And those dreams were always horrific…or worse—

They made him _feel_.

But, that was the abominable state he found himself in now…though, he had to confess, this dream he didn't mind—

At least: not yet.

The images were murky, wherever he was, the room was dark; it was made of aged wood and clay, that he could plainly see. He was lying in a small bed…and a woman was leaning over him.

And she was singing.

He couldn't clearly discern her face, only that she had long, dark hair that tumbled in curls from her head to brush his face as she sat over him; the words to the song were vague as well, he would occasionally hear a word he understood, like 'bird' or 'flower,' and he could unravel enough to know she was singing in some ancient tongue.

It was a lullaby; that came to him at length.

Lips drew near and brushed his brow. He heard himself asking if he could go outside tomorrow.

His voice sounded so young. He must be a child then, a very young child.

His stomach turned; no, this wasn't a random dream…it was a _memory_.

Quickly, he ordered himself, wake up!

Blast it! Why wasn't Xerxes _waking_ him!?

He tried to force the dream away, struggled back to wakefulness; for if he was remembering—

Then this was his mother; his insides wrenched, no he didn't want to think of his dead mother, because if he did—

Then he'd dream next of his worthless, thieving traitor of a father.

He heard her gently tell him she'd see; that he'd burned himself badly in the sun today, he needed to let the salve work.

He heard himself plead; she laughed tenderly and kissed him again, promised she'd talk it over with his father…but only if he was good. With that she got up—

And the dream changed.

No; he moaned in his sleep. He didn't want her to go…he tried to call out, tried to make her _come back_; but the dream plunged him next into a very familiar place:

The Land of the Black Sand.

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Cassim was nervous.

As he ventured like a wraith down the vast corridors, he made a point of sneaking close enough to random groups of guests that passed him, just to overhear their talk.

Random conversation revealed much of what was transpiring within the walls of a…job.

And he didn't like all the exchanges he was hearing: tales of a hero-groom, a hero who _always_ triumphed over his adversaries.

It didn't _worry_ him per se, but it was a complication he didn't need on his most vital of all missions in the last 14 years of his life!

Heroes he admired…but not when they interfered with _his_ work.

So far he hadn't caught the boy's name…he was only called "the princess's betrothed" or "the groom," but a foreboding crawled up his back.

He rounded a corner; ah, there it was: the Royal Treasury. Lattice doors stared back at him.

Thank the stars; he soundlessly headed for it.

It only took a couple seconds of picking the lock and then he was in.

And there, at the center of the vast, glittering room, atop a marble pedestal, lay the Oracle.

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In Mozenrath's dream he stood at the huge double-doors of the Citadel; he was five years old again—and shaking uncontrollably.

Desdane had just kidnapped him; he fought and bit with all his might until Desdane simply waved a hand and heavy metal chains wrapped around him, making it impossible to move.

A gag entwined itself around and in his mouth but he still tried to call for his family: his mother….

His 'father,' who proved conniving and _false_—

And his brother…he could almost make out the name he was striving to call.

"This is your home now," Desdane had told him with deathly finality; "and I am now your master evermore; test me and you'll regret it—_dearly._"

Scarlet eyes had borne into him; he called for his parents and brother again…each time his brother's name became a little clearer….

He could almost make it out….

"Master! Master!"

Mozenrath jolted awake; stray curls in his eyes. He brushed them away and let his senses clear themselves.

"Master! Xerxes find spell! Xerxes find spell that opens book!"

But Mozenrath didn't hear a word; he felt presence nearby.

Had he triggered the dream?

A vile taste filled the back of his throat—

It was his _father_.

His betraying father was here; in the palace.

Anger: deep, consuming, searing anger filled his every pore. Now, at last; he'd have his revenge.

His father was _here_…of course: for the Royal Wedding.

There would be no shortage of guests to loot; or wedding gifts to steal.

No; his father would only find one thing here: his final resting place-

Because Mozenrath was going to kill him.

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**A/N:** Well, I hope y'all enjoy! So…for those of you who've not reviewed yet…are these past few chapters worth your reviews yet? Just a few words even? It'd make the author VERY happy


	69. Chapter 69: Celebrations

**A/N: **And here we go!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 69: Celebrations _

"Distract the guards," Mozenrath ordered, rising purposefully.

Xerxes didn't like his tone…or how his dark eyes were infernos of unrestrained rage.

"Master…."

"No stalling Xerxes," the wizard snapped, rounding on him, "do it; or I will."

Xerxes gulped; that typically meant: _'and I'll punish you for disobedience later on_,' as well.

But…why? What was going on?

"What wrong master?" he chanced. Mozenrath grabbed his neck and yanked him so they were but a breadth apart.

"Don't ask questions," he bit out, and Xerxes, even gasping for air could plainly see his master's eyes were not only livid beyond description but his gaze was _unfocused._

Oh; no, his rages had overtaken him again. There would be no reasoning with him.

He had to get the sand witch; quickly. An idea lit in his mind.

"Xerxes do…master want," he gulped out.

Mozenrath released him; his expression _deranged_ with overwhelming anger.

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When the guards outside first heard the yells, they were barely audible.

The next time though, it was obvious—

It was the princess; and she was crying for help.

They burst into Aladdin's chamber—one of the chests was jostling to and fro…and the wails were coming from within.

Thankfully it only took a couple hacks of their swords to break the lock; it was the princess inside: bound and gagged.

One of the guards pulled the gag away; Jasmine immediately spoke:

"You have to stop him! Mozenrath switched places with me and he's at the wedding! He's going to kill my father!"

The guards gawked; one looked suspicious but the princess wailed:

"There's no time! Please!" tears welled up in her eyes. "You're the only hope my father has! Save him!"

And the guards were off; one tried to stay and unbind her, but Jasmine urged him to go, saying she'd be fine.

He bolted out right behind the others. The door remained open—and unguarded.

Jasmine's form shimmered gold before returning to Xerxes.

Mozenrath came out from behind a drape near the balcony. "Excellent work, Xerxes."

The eel somberly nodded.

"Stay here," his tone left no room for argument—but held plenty of warning.

Xerxes gulped and lowered his head, nodding again.

His master vanished out the door a moment later. Xerxes waited a full minute and then cautiously glided to the doorway; he looked both ways.

His master was gone.

He followed the sand witch's scent to the pavilion; only she could stop his master.

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Cassim had never hesitated to seize any loot he wanted; but this, this Oracle…it wasn't mere loot.

It was the key to finding his boys. And…the momentousness of the occasion didn't escape him.

He trembled as his hand slid over the cool gold scepter. The large emerald-green stone glowed in the daylight, as if shimmering with promise—

Promise of answers.

Promise of hope.

Promise of an end to his questing at long last.

He could practically feel his sons in his arms again. He swallowed and smiled in happiness; the renewed flickers of hope making him lightheaded.

By now, the others were nearly done pillaging the chambers. They'd be gone in a few minutes…and it'd be at least tomorrow before their…activities were discovered.

No one would ever know it was them.

He opened his satchel and placed the Oracle inside. As he resealed it he heard from behind:

"Finding what you're looking for?"

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When the elephant came rampaging into the pavilion area, Aladdin grabbed Jaz and leapt out of the way just before they got trampled; the giant creature veered around as if in a panic.

But…why?

Genie rocketed over the creature to head it off just as Sadira lifted her hands and called out some sort of command.

The palace shook and Jasmine yelled:

"Sadira? What are you doing!?"

The sand witch's eyes were unfocused, as if seeing far away. She blinked repeatedly a second later and her gaze cleared.

"There's thieves in the palace," she replied, "but I've called the sands to collect them."

"Good!" Aladdin said, grabbing a sword, "have the sands bring them here!"

A few seconds later, Aladdin got his wish.

The battle began.

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Cassim spun around lithely, sword drawn.

Who-?

Near the doors, hung curtains blocked the sun beaming in, creating a pool of deep shadows. From them, a tall, thin figure emerged donned in a floor-length, navy robe.

Cassim blinked.

It was a…boy?

But it was; as he drew nearer silently, Cassim could make out that the robe was hooded, which was drawn over the child's face, concealing his hair, but his face….

He was deathly pale, and while one hand was bandaged with some sort of silk, the other was little better than flesh on bone. And shadows marred the boy's already thin face, going clear to his high cheekbones.

He advanced slowly on Cassim, and while it was plain to Cassim that this child could not _possibly_ be a threat considering his obviously ill and emaciated state…a chill of warning crept up his spine.

The boy's eyes were dark, but something was terribly _wrong_ with how they looked at him; like some feral creature eyeing its prey.

Without intent, Cassim took a step back. The child smiled at that.

The chill spread all over his body. No boy should have such a…deranged smile.

"Well," the eerie child said, his tone too light and amused to match his…_unhinged_ expression. "Who knew? It is a day for celebration after all."

And before Cassim could react, the boy lifted a hand and _blue fire_ shot at him.

Cassim yelled as he was propelled across the room.

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**A/N: **Oh snap! And so it begins!


	70. Chapter 70: Feral Meeting

**A/N: **Well, I'm happy to see that the last few chapters received good reviews. I was kinda concerned that after making y'all wait SO long for this part it was gonna fall short…I'm VERY relieved it didn't! So, thx for the great reviews…loved every single one and they really MAKE my day. So, w/o further ado: onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 70: Feral Meeting_

As the shadowy figure upon the beaked mount ran across the onyx sands, they didn't sense the unseen entity that followed them.

Behind them, the sands rose and fell, like water when a whale is about to breech…but then—

In front of the pair, the sands exploded, propelling the rider off his mount.

He landed about 20 feet away, yelling in his gravelly voice as his steed flew in the other direction.

Out of the sands, an enormous sand serpent emerged; blood red, pebbly skin like armor covered its monolithic body.

Cerise, narrow eyes glared down at the sprawled pair.

"Wheeeee!" it let out a bellowing hiss. The rider leapt to his feet, pulling out a bolas; twirling it threateningly. It whirled loudly against the desert silence.

But the serpent struck too fast, lunging at the rider and wrapping around his tall, lithe body.

Its dragon-like head grinned in triumph as it leered down at the rider…and began constricting its plated body, hissing low in satisfaction.

The horned steed scrambled to its Gallimimus-like feet and threw itself at the creature, pecking with its large yellow-tan beak and clawing with its large feet.

The serpent-monster carelessly flung the steed away with the armor-plates along its tail tip.

The steed made a 'whunking' sound as it reconnected with the sandy dunes.

The rider managed to pull a saber from his leather belt and struck at the creature's armor over and over, trying to anger it enough to strike; it worked.

The head dived at him, teeth bared, and the rider took his opportunity; he sliced at the soft tongue and inside the upper jaw moving impossibly fast, even half immobilized.

The creature shrieked and raised its armored tail.

The rider's sword was knocked from his hands a second later; the creature let out a raspy, blood-chilling laugh as the blade was swallowed by the gloomy darkness.

Over them, a large dune loomed; atop it an outcropping of large stones broke the dim light of the moon peeking through. Another dark figure, wrapped in layers of cloth, emerged unnoticed.

The mount struggled to its feet, and made to attack again, but was merely knocked aside by the formidable tail.

The creature tightened its hold on the rider; who let out a gasping breath as air was forced from his lungs; he watched the serpent bare its long, razor teeth again, this time to snap him in two.

It dived at him—

Only to have the blade mysteriously reappear out of the gloom- this time embedding itself in the creature's enormous mouth!

The serpent reared its head back and let out a terrible scream as the ragged figure leapt onto its hide, near the rider and pulled out another blade…this one made of an onyx black metal—

It easily hacked through the serpent's armored-skin.

The ragged figure easily dodged the serpents gnashing teeth and flailing tail, eventually cutting the rider free; they both jumped from the creature to the steed, which had risen and was waiting below.

They were off in the next moment; the massive serpent coiled up its injured body; eyes fiery with anger—

Now it just wanted to get even; on all three of them.

No one noticed a lone figure watching all from the Citadel's highest tower, chuckling and purring with delight as she watched the delightful show on the dunes.

"Hmmm, but it would be so much more _amusing_…if the spies escaped," Mirage reflected aloud and flicked a wrist….

Rocks exploded from the dunes below the serpent as it was nearly on top of the three, impaling its soft underbelly and immobilizing it.

It wailed in fury as the trio were swallowed by the horizon.

Mirage chuckled and walked away, golden eyes lit with glee.

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Cassim landed atop a huge pile of gold and heard the boy snicker coldly and chuckle.

Even as his head cleared, he wondered what sort of boy could have such an _evil_ laugh.

Was he some insane relation of the sultan's? Did the sultan lock him away in the palace and perhaps he escaped amongst the wedding commotion?

Cassim could think of nothing else.

"Oh, how many tortuous years I've waited for this moment," the child avowed, his tone wickedly delighted, "you have no idea how I've longed for this moment…when I'd see you _bleed_, and _suffer_ as I did…_all because of_ _you_."

His tone darkened chillingly at the end and Cassim rose to see the boy lift his hand again.

No; he was no mad relation…he was some sort of insane sorcerer.

Cassim nimbly dodged a blast and drew out his sword only to see the boy chuckle again, his eyes lit with some sort of unhinged excitement.

Had the child's magic put him over the edge?

"Who are you?" Cassim asked, trying to use reason, "I don't recall doing you any wrong."

The boy only snickered, "No; I'm sure to you I never was worth _remembering_."

Another blast of inky fire shot at Cassim, and another…and another.

Cassim leapt, dodged and flipped out of the endless barrage; he couldn't escape the notion the boy was merely toying with him.

Mid flip he glanced at the boy's face and only saw a lazy, yet amused grin meeting his eyes—

Yes; he was the amusement right now. That was bad.

Cassim landed neatly—only to have the gold reach up as a giant hand, seizing him. It was clear to Cassim as the metal edges of the gold coins jabbed into his flesh and the hand squeezed he'd have to use more extreme measures now.

"I don't…" he gasped, "want to…hurt"—gasp—"a mere…boy."

He was convinced of the boy's insanity when he burst out _laughing_; he couldn't clearly make out the child's features, obscured as they were beneath that hood, but the wild, feral light in his eyes said all—

But…that being said, why did he suddenly feel that he'd seen those eyes before?

_Had_ he wronged the child in some way?

"Oh, don't worry," the boy managed to get out, still chuckling between words, "you won't hurt me," he clenched a fist and Cassim gasped as the hand's grip became crushing.

-"and I'm hardly a 'mere boy,'" the child finished, his tone menacing and dangerous.

Dangerous; whoever this wizard boy was, (Cassim could see black spots on his field of vision); he had to get out.

But…the Oracle was so close.

As much as he didn't want to hurt a poor, mad child, Cassim was determined to not leave without the Oracle; which meant he'd have to incapacitate the boy.

Or…have the boy do it to himself.

Apparently, the child decided to not end him so soon and threw him into the nearest wall.

Cassim remarked to himself how lovely the cobalt and gold enameling was as his body connected to it, then toppled to a table of jewels a moment later.

"Oh, never fear," the boy snarked, clearly reveling, "I won't kill you; that'd be far _too good_ for you."

And then the boy laughed dementedly again as gold-ware of all kinds levitated and flung themselves at Cassim.

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Mozenrath couldn't recall the last time he'd enjoyed himself this much; or even _half_ this much.

He imagined this was a foretaste of the freedom he'd beheld on the sand mouse's face….

No; he didn't want to feel those pangs of guilt in his stomach…he pushed away thoughts of her.

But thinking of her proved a mistake; suddenly revenge tasted chalky and dry instead of sweet and liberating.

He forced his thoughts back into the fire: the fire of hatred, pain…and retribution.

He used his magic to grab his father by the limbs as he tumbled and dodged like another no-account thief Mozenrath knew and flung him around the room like a rag doll.

"Your pathetic tricks are nothing new," he ranted viciously, over sounds of falling treasure and his father's grunts of pain; he felt the searing heat of rage cut through his body, marring and distorting any thoughts of regret, "I've been trained by the best already; you're just second rate," he carelessly added, throwing his 'father' through a pile of golden plates.

"In fact," he added with amusement, "remind me to thank the street rat; in many ways, he prepared me for this moment." Fleetingly, he thought of how he'd been syphoning his magic from his gauntlet back into his person so he'd be less vulnerable to its loss—yes; Aladdin had taught him much, worthless vermin he otherwise was.

His father found himself pummeled against the azure floor tiles; Mozenrath snickered in exuberance.

"I won't kill you," he grimly said, "you won't get off that easily; I had to bear years of agony…and so will you." He raised a hand and invisible hands snatched his father from the ground.

Mozenrath looked around. "Perhaps I'll bury you alive under a monument of gold," he frostily avowed, thinking back to the fire mirror showing his father celebrating a successful night of looting. "That way you'll be with your precious treasure for all time." Rage took full hold of him and his breathing went ragged; he started to shake. "You can _rot_; _rot_ with your dear gold and jewels, that you abandoned _all else for_ to have," he felt his eyes sting but was too angry to pay attention, "you're a worthless traitor; a low and filthy thief, how the world will thank me for ridding of such as you!"

His heart pounding against his ribs, the blood rushing his head, he called up the worst memories of what he'd suffered under Desdane—and forced them into his father's mind.

Cassim screamed louder than he thought possible as he relived Mozenrath's most horrific tortures.

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**A/N: **Well, things aren't going so well for Cassim. What's gonna happen next? U gotta wait and see! Plz leave a review!


	71. Chapter 71: Wedding Party

**A/N: **

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 71: The Wedding Party_

Aladdin swung the sword down at the thief who had taken a stab at him. Sadira's sand storm had swooshed loudly into the pavilion area, a great monolithic cloud of bronze sand that churned and groaned like a living thing, and dropped 39 men all around them before dissipating with a blaring chorus of hisses.

"Thieves! Attack!" a man with a brass knuckle-duster yelled, raising his weapon-embellished fist.

"Yahhhhhh!" the 39 men bellowed, dropping their bags which spilled open, revealing pilfered treasures and possessions, before brandishing their wide array of weapons and charging the guests.

Most of those invited yelled and scattered, fleeing as fast as possible, but some remained with the bride and groom, aside from the guards.

"For Agrabah!" Sadira cried, conjuring a sand staff and charging.

"For Agrabah!" the rest of the team echoed, grabbing the nearest available weapons and racing towards the Thieves.

Aladdin blocked and parried, seeing Genie grab the elephant who had been demolishing the pavilion in its mad rampage; he quickly assessed the area as pieces of the structure fell all around him with loud 'crashes.'

Thankfully, no one had been hit…though poor Carpet had been trampled by the elephant.

"Oh, that's kinda redundant for you, buddy," Genie said, helping his woven friend up. They both joined the fray a second later.

Jasmine grabbed a tall candelabrum and was using it as a staff to fight beside Sadira, who levitated all the debris to attack the Thieves. Aladdin grinned as the men were pelted and knocked out by blocks of the great structure, yelling out: "Magic! A sorceress!"

Iago seized a golden centerpiece and was threatening a group of thieves with it.

"You boys have met your match today!" he snarled.

"Good little birdie," one of the thieves cooed, coaxing with a gesture, "Polly want a-?"

Iago bellowed, "Say 'cracker' and I'll let you have it on principle!"

Rajah came rushing in and leapt onto a very large man—the one with the knuckle-duster. He swatted at his barbed hand and then in his face.

The man yelled as he went down; Rajah wasted no time in finding other thieves to chase.

Sadira gestured and called out commands; turning the nearby sands into monsters to sic on the bandits; Jasmine beside her was fighting two thieves at once.

But, they had help. Hippsodeth and Scara pulled out their archery equipment and were shooting golden arrows at the thieves which turned into rope that wound around them. King Pector was battling multiple foes at once while calling down lightning from a clear sky to shock them into unconsciousness.

It was almost difficult for Aladdin to spot Genie; till he saw his blue friend get rushed by an Asian man, a knife-thrower and a large man with yellow teeth.

Genie looked at the Asian as he tried to intimidate with some ninja moves…then grinned down at them—before changing into several ninjas himself, all wielding sai weapons.

The trio of foes all dropped their bags and ran. Aladdin knocked the sword from his opponents hand, only for him to run as well.

Well, it seemed bravery wasn't high on their job requirements list. Aladdin saw the big man with the knuckle-duster get up and notice Genie.

"Cassim said nothing about facing the powers of a genie," he said to an older man who joined him. "Sahid, what is this folly?"

The man called Sahid yelled to the others: "Fall back! Disappear!"

The big man looked like he didn't want to follow orders, but grabbed two bags of loot laying nearby and fled.

"After them!" Aladdin yelled. The man called Sahid pulled two bags out of his tunic and threw them at Al and the team.

They exploded, blowing blue and green smoke all over.

Aladdin coughed and heard the man called Sahid say to another: "I'll find our leader; return to the lair."

'Our leader'? Aladdin heard Sadira yell a command.

Wind came from nowhere, howling and cleared the smoke away. Aladdin looked around, assessing his friends.

Some of the guards were sporting slash wounds, as were Hippsodeth and Scara. Jasmine was bruised and so was Sadira; Pector's brow was bleeding. And Iago….

"They're getting away with my treasure!" the bird bellowed, flying after the Thieves.

"Hey bird man!" Genie called, and they all pursued Iago, "Not without us!"

"I'll take 'em myself! No one takes my treasure!"

They raced after the Thieves…who had fled _into_ the palace.

"You'd think they'd make for the nearest exit," Sadira remarked, running beside Aladdin.

"They probably are going to split up," Jasmine put in.

And as if they heard her, they did.

"Break into teams," Aladdin directed, "no one goes alone."

They rounded a corner just to see some of the Thieves running for the main door. One of them swung it open—

And there were the Mukhtar and Aladdin's friend Amal, standing in the doorway.

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**A/N: **Ya know, I was going to go on after this segment, but I really wanted to end this part with Amal and Mukhtar…who have arrived! Yay! I love these guys. The fun will continue Plz review!


	72. Chapter 72: Monsters and Mayhem

**A/N: **Hey y'all. So, we're sitting at 12,100 readers kids! My brain still can't process, but at the risk of uber redundancy; thanks for reading/supporting! And to my ban of faithful reviewers, whom I look forward to after uploading every chapter…THX! Anyways, the return of Amal and Mukhtar got positive feedback, which is awesome, and I did have 1 reviewer comment on mixing movie lines w/ the story; yes, I did do that. There are things in the movie (such as Iago's 'cracker' line) that are classic stuff to me and I thought deserved to be passed over into this fic. So, the original lines along with characters of course are Disney; the OC's are mine. **And to kurocyq: I love Moze's evil laugh too! In fact, go on YouTube y'all and type in "Mozenrath hahaha." There's a GREAT vid of all his best laughs there! It's awesome! But, no questions per se, so…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch.72: Monsters and Mayhem_

"It seemsssss, we've arrived at bit late," Mukhtar said, taking in the group of thieves staring slack-jawed at he, Amal and Saurus.

Amal only pulled out a dagger and narrowed his yellow eyes at the group. "I'd say we arrived just in time," he countered in his very deep and rumbling voice.

The trio charged; Saurus included.

"Monsters!" one of the thieves yelled in terror; the group broke up and ran.

The only one who didn't run was the large man with the knuckle-duster. Another thief saw and shouted: "Saluk! Are you mad!?"

"I'm no longer running," Saluk angrily countered, swinging down at Mukhtar's head. The lizard-man neatly flipped clear and unsheathed his blade.

"Brave," Mukhtar appraised coolly, parrying the exotic weapon, "but foolissssh."

"I fear no monster," Saluk growled, swiping at him again.

"Which is yet more foolisssh."

The rest of the thieves ran, breaking off into singles and fleeing in all directions.

"No one goes alone!" Aladdin reminded the group; but just as he rounded a corner, Xerxes flew around it and smacked Al right in the face. He went down.

The eel didn't seem to notice; and bolted over to Sadira.

"Master gone! Master leave room!"

"What!?" Al, Sadira, Genie, Jaz and Iago all said together; Sadira shut her eyes and whispered, seeking Mozenrath's presense.

Xerxes frantically nodded. "Master say 'distract guards,'" the eel looked guilty, "Xerxes did. Master very angry…master…in _rage_."

He was met with a sea of grim faces. They all knew what 'in rage' meant.

"Go see to this person," Amal directed, resting a hand on Al's shoulder, "we'll see to your uninvited guests."

Al patted his hand. "Thanks Amal."

Sadira shook her head, eyes opening. "I can't sense him; he's blocking me."

"Xerxes can track master," the eel reassured her, patting her shoulder with his tail.

Al nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Saurus ran by, chasing a group of screaming thieves as he snapped at them with his large beak.

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Cassim had never experienced anything like the black magic this boy had forced into his mind.

It was like poison: vile, festering toxin driving itself into every crevice of his thoughts like black lava; burning, searing…tormenting.

Cassim had screamed until his throat was raw, he was certain he had coughed up blood; he had never suffered such pain before.

At least not physical pain.

Memories not his own clawed and tore savagely through his mind like jagged swords and barbed arrows: memories of dungeons too dark to even be called that…horrific monsters attacking from all directions—

And a man; a tall man with glowing scarlet eyes who inflicted pain like nothing Cassim even imagined possible.

There were stabs of terror, piercings of hate, pain, loneliness…and the never-fading presence of despair…of hopelessness.

Cassim felt all of them in a nightmarish kaleidoscope; but even over it and his screams, could faintly make out the boy's demented laughter.

The boy…these were his memories Cassim realized, and _this_ is what the boy blamed him for?

But…why!? _Why!?_

At sweet, merciful length, the memories faded. Cassim's writhing body went limp; the only sound was his gasping for air, his body gnawed with pain all over.

"A small trifle," the boy matter-of-factly avowed, "I wanted you to have a foretaste of your fate; you _well deserved_ fate. After all, I believe you should only get…_what you've earned_."

Mozenrath lifted his hand, preparing the next dose of agony…when Aladdin leapt from nowhere and tackled him.

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As Al ran off to find Mozenrath, Sadira made to follow.

"No Sadira!" Jasmine called behind her, "Stop the rest of the thieves; we'll find Mozenrath."

Xerxes opened his mouth to object, but Sadira grimly nodded. They didn't know where the thieves had all gone and Genie followed after Al…she thought it _should_ be all right.

Part of her urged that she should go with though. Something crashed behind her; she spun around, just as a thief dived at her, knives drawn!

It was too late to dodge; she called up her magic- till the creature called Amal intercepted him at the last minute. They both went tumbling down the corridor, Sadira flicked her wrist. Sand from outside swooped in through a nearby window and formed manacles around the thief's arms and legs; he tripped on his feet and toppled to the floor. Amal blinked his large eyes in surprise.

"You do impressive magic," he said, his beaked mouth forming a smile…which was somehow endearing even with those fangs.

Sadira's mouth pulled into a smile in response. "Thanks; let's find the others."

Amal nodded and they began the search, even as Saluk and Mukhtar continued fighting.

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Sahid glanced back; the boy and his entourage were a short distance behind him, but he knew the boy had spotted him. The boy who reminded him of Cassim couldn't possibly be a nobleman or royal; his eyes were too sharp, no he smelled a fellow thief on the child.

Which meant it would be harder to lose him; he dodged into a spare corridor and called on his tricks to evade the unsettling boy.

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As Aladdin ran, Xerxes repeatedly sniffed the air and assured them 'master' was nearby; then Al realized they were heading in the direction of the Royal Treasury. Mozenrath must've caught this 'leader' that Al heard the other thief mention; the wizard couldn't care less about Agrabah's wealth. Aladdin stopped just as they drew near.

There were noises coming from the lavish chamber: laughing…and screaming.

It must be the leader; but Al had never heard such piercing screams in his life.

It was definitely Mozenrath laughing; that type of laughter Al _had_ heard before: it was Mozenrath's most insane laughter…the kind he indulged in when he fully abandoned all sense and logic to indulge in one of his maddened rages.

Aladdin rushed for the lattice doors.

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**A/N: **Hey guys, so I know this is kinda short, but for some reason was harder to write today than usual; I'll blame it on the weird weather, it's April 10th for crying out loud and here in the Midwest we're getting SNOW…well; I still went to work today w/o a coat! So there pseudo-winter! Ha! Anyhow, I hope y'all enjoy; plz leave a review…esp those of you out there who haven't reviewed yet! C'mon; I've given ya over 70 chapters now…doesn't that merit even a tiny review? Till next time y'all. Remember, throw any ?'s my way too ;-)


	73. Chapter 73: A Deathly Promise

**A/N: **Ok, so you lucky ppl get two chapters today! Enjoy!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 73: A Deathly Promise _

Mukhtar leapt to a nearby curtain and swung upwards, then back down at Saluk, his blade clanging loudly against the knuckle-duster.

"Get down here monster and fight like a man!" the thief bellowed, waving both fists.

Mukhtar only laughed, low and raspy and let gravity do its work; he swung back up, but dropped unexpectedly down on the man.

He knocked Saluk off his feet, but jumped clear when the thief quickly recovered, flipping neatly off a chair—and kicking it at Saluk as momentum took him in the opposite direction.

Saluk cleaved it in two with his weapon and then latched the brass weapon on some nearby candle-sticks, flinging them at Mukhtar.

Mukhtar easily parried each with his blade, and pulled out a bolas. Saluk snatched up a fallen blade near his feet and brandished it in his opposite hand.

Mukhtar only smiled.

"At lassst, _you_ deign to fight like a man," he taunted, smiling.

Saluk only growled, and waved the sword.

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Mozenrath and Aladdin had fist fought and wrestled enough times that Al thought he knew what to expect when he wrapped his arms around the wizard's lean waist and let momentum pull them down.

No; he didn't.

Mozenrath had never fought so…violently in times past. He immediately flung his fists at the other, punching and hitting, and kicking out with his legs…as though possessed.

"Get off me!" the wizard bellowed, as Al tried to grab his arms and hold them down, but Mozenrath was too nimble this time, anticipating Al's strategy apparently. "I'll have my revenge before Desdane gets his hands on me again!"

No one noticed Cassim start at that as he quietly rose, he slowly patted his satchel to ensure the Oracle was still in there; it was, thankfully.

He watched as the wizard boy blasted the other child off of him; they both were moving so quickly that it was hard to make out the newcomer's features. Not that it mattered; Cassim wasn't really looking—at least not at the two children.

He was, however, looking for another exit…and there it was: a nearby window. Granted; it was high up, but that's what grappling hooks and rope were for, right?

He slowly reached into his bag for said necessities, very happy no one seemed to pay attention to him; with the boy a small monkey and bird had come in, as well as a lovely girl in a ripped gown—she must be the bride—when a man…in blue body paint?—arrived.

"Al! I lost the other guy," he said upon entering, and ran over, "now Wiz-kid, here I thought you were behaving sooo nice!"

The 'Wiz-kid,' suddenly blasted the other boy off him with more inky fire. He hopped spryly to his feet as the other went flying. Cassim winced in sympathy as the child connected to the wall.

"Al!" the blue man said, rushing to his side; the bride did as well.

But…just as Cassim thought he was in the clear…another 'new arrival' flew in.

Literally flew. It was—a _flying eel!?_

Cassim watched in disbelief as it quickly assessed the situation and bolted to the mad boy's side, wrapping itself around his bare hand.

And…the madness continued…it talked.

"Must stop master!" it cried, sounding genuinely concerned. "Must rest! Too sick for battle! Please, must stop!"

The wizard boy shook the restrained hand, and turned to Cassim. "Don't think you're rescued, you filth! There's no place in this or any world you'll be safe from me! Not ever!" He turned his dilated, reddened eyes to the eel. "Get off Xerxes! You're in enough trouble for leaving that chamber!"

"Please master! Must stop before—"

The wizard boy blasted him off too; the eel smacked the nearest wall with a wet sound and flopped to the marble floor, and laid still. Cassim felt a stab of pity for the poor creature.

It looked out cold.

Invisible talons took seized his throat.

"Now," the boy went on as the blue man and bride helped the other boy up, "I admit, it's a shame our…_quality time together_…was cut short, but I believe you were going."

And he yanked Cassim off his feet and before the thief could react, he was flung out the aforementioned window.

He landed outside the palace, in the upper bowl of Jasmine's courtyard fountain.

He didn't let himself think of why the boy let him go; it was obvious he intended to keep Cassim free so he could hunt him down later on. Cassim grabbed the fountain's rim and pulled himself out. He made a wet smacking sound as his water-logged body hit the ground. He darted for cover before someone spotted him.

He had to return to their lair; the other thieves were on their way back no doubt, and he had the Oracle.

Which meant he'd soon know the location of his boys; he'd surely know before sundown.

He had all the more reason to get them out of the area—if they nearby even—and someplace far, far away.

War was coming; and a mad wizard child was after him. He had no idea why; but it didn't matter. He wouldn't chance the wizard harming his sons in any way. And if they were far enough away, that'd make it easier.

He kept to the brush as he made for his horse, waiting nearby.

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Mozenrath watched with a triumphant grin as his 'father' flew out the small upper window and out of sight. Good; his father would surely escape, and no doubt flee to some far off place in hopes of eluding him, but no matter. He'd hold to his word: there was no place in existence he couldn't hunt the man down; his father would never escape his wrath.

His father would attempt running though; he was a coward, just like any other thief.

"Mozenrath!" the street rat yelled, pouncing on him again.

Well; any other thief, save one.

Mozenrath didn't fight this time as the boy pinned his arms down, his expression furious.

"All right, all right street rat," Mozenrath said in his most put-out voice, "I surrender." He snickered. "Take me to your leader."

Aladdin hauled him to his feet; Mozenrath dusted himself off, grinning at the boy's livid expression.

"You let that thief get away," Aladdin pointed out. It was a question.

Mozenrath carelessly shrugged. "I thought letting thieves run loose was standard around here." He gave Aladdin a pointed look.

Aladdin's glower deepened, unfortunately, it was because he wasn't being baited; blast it all, Mozenrath hated it when the street rat chose to be insightful.

Why couldn't he just be dumb and idealistic all the time?

"I was just trying to be tolerant," the wizard quipped, "don't you approve? Now, he can go off, have a crisis of conscience and turn the other cheek." He noted Aladdin's unconvinced frown. "Or…are you afraid he'll want to become a 'hero' like you and then you'll have _competition?_" His tone was slick it was so patronizing.

The guards decided in that moment to come crashing in.

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**A/N: **


	74. Chapter 74: Lair & Pursuit

**A/N: **Well, I'm super glad you're all enjoying the last few chapters! Apparently it wasn't predictable that Moze would just let his father go like that…to be honest, I thought it up at the last minute. But, it fits that Moze wouldn't want Cassim captured by Aladdin and thrown in the dungeon; free, Moze can hunt him down later on and finish his revenge at his leisure. Well, let's keep it going here! Thanks for the awesome reviews You're all uber epic! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 74: Lair & Pursuit_

Razoul wasted no time in thundering up to Mozenrath, and grabbing his robe around the neck.

"I saw what you did, you miserable wizard brat!" he raged. "You helped him escape!"

Aladdin tried to intervene, but Razoul pushed him roughly aside.

"Oh?" Mozenrath coyly asked. "Did I? I forget."

Razoul wrapped one hand around the boy's neck, but Jasmine caught dark warning cross the wizard's eyes.

"Razoul," she quickly interjected, "let go of—"

Before she could finish, Mozenrath carelessly raised a hand…and one blast of blue fire later, Razoul soared gracefully across the chamber, before landing violently in a pile of gold coins.

"Agh!" he let out upon collision.

"Mozenrath!" Jasmine objected, hands on her hips. "This isn't helping."

Mozenrath only grinned at her. "I never said I was trying to help."

"Why did you-?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you—" the wizard snapped, his face contorting back to the manic rage. The other eight guards saw and drew their swords to intercept him, and his eyes widened cholericly. Before anyone could react, he arms flew up and blue-silver light flashed.

"Don't touch me!" the wizard shouted lividly as the force of his magic shook the room enough to throw everyone around like dolls and the guards were all propelled in different directions.

A flash of copper and the chamber suddenly stilled.

"What is going on in here!?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

Mozenrath started; looked.

It was Sadira.

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As Sadira and Amal chased down the remaining six thieves that were still in the palace, it didn't escape the sand witch that she'd seen those moves before in two other street rats she knew: herself and Aladdin.

It was a safe bet then, that this 'Amal' was a former street rat himself.

The easy acrobatics that his green furred and armored body did as they were forced to split up on many occasions as they pursued the thieves through the palace's grand, vaulted corridors, the flipping from open corridors above, the leaping down atriums, the somersaulting over furniture and around huge pillars and using the curtains as ropes and vaults; oh, how familiar it all looked.

It wasn't intentional, but seeing Amal do it re-kindled the longing in Sadira to pit her own body against gravity as well; she didn't miss Amal's appreciative glances and smirks of knowing either.

One long aerobic exercise later and she was using the silver sands to magically shackle the remaining thieves.

"You move very well," Amal observed beside her and she worked. It was a labor to not laugh at the thieves exchanging horrified looks between the 'sorceress' and the 'monster.'

Sadira did grin though. "So do you, actually. Did you know Aladdin growing up?"

Amal nodded. "He was, and is, my best friend."

Sadira nodded as her suspicions were confirmed. "I was a street rat too; once."

"I guessed as much."

Silence reigned for a moment.

"But you didn't come for the wedding? Why not?"

Amal put his head down and Sadira looked closer, swearing a blush was there, at least around his golden eyes. His floppy ears went limp, she thought in distress.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be; but…how could one such as I come to a royal wedding?"

Sadira shrugged. "Well, you could say the same thing about _me_."

Amal blinked in shock, but as he opened his mouth to reply, a deafening crash made them both jump as a grand display of exotic plants upon a gold multi-tiered pedestal fell over; and amongst the debris were Mukhtar and Saluk, wrestling aggressively.

"You fight very well…for a human," Mukhtar observed.

"Gah! And you fight well for something _less_ than human," Saluk snarled in retort.

Sadira flicked her wrist; silver manacles appeared around Saluk's arms and legs, immobilizing him.

Saluk yelled in anger; Mukhtar fluidly rose to his feet. He glared down at the thief, removed his knuckle-duster.

"I look forward to your essscape," he hissed, "when we shall see how 'lesssss' I am than a mortal." He placed the weapon in his cloak. "I shall keep thisss for that day; you'll need it, I asssssure you."

Amal snickered. "How fortunate for you, thief; that the sorceress was here to protect you then."

Sadira only shook her head.

"What!? I need no—"

Sadira flicked her wrist again and a gag wrapped itself around his mouth. He only 'grmmmphed' in protest.

"Well, I think that's all of them," the sand witch remarked, stretching out with her senses to try and detect any strays. But then the palace shook as a shock wave reverberated though.

"I believe the boy musssst have located their leader," Mukhtar guessed grimly.

"I'll go check it out," Sadira told them, "show our guests to the finest dungeons, would you please?"

Amal and Mukhtar sniggered as she vanished in a swirl of copper light.

No one bothered to tell her that her crown remained un-skewed during the entire battle.

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It took Cassim less time than he had feared to return to their lair.

One 'open sesame' later he was in their underground domain…with the Oracle in his satchel.

A dismaying sight met his eyes though: he counted only eight other men who had returned. Sahid looked the worse for wear, his face drawn in somber lines.

"Sahid?" Cassim asked with bated breath. "The rest of the men?"

"Taken," was all the other man said his tone deadpan. Cassim swallowed.

"But how? Our men are the best—"

"Not against genies and a sorceress," the knife-wielder snapped, stomping up to him. "Why did you not warn us we'd be battling against magic? Against women with magic bows and arrows, against a man who can summon down lightning from a clear sky?! What sort of death-trap did you lead us into Cassim!?"

"What!?" Cassim replied in appallment, "What do you mean!?" He looked to Sahid for explanation.

"The plan was a catastrophe," Sahid soberly returned, "this Agrabah; it is full of strange magic, Cassim. We encountered a blue man who was in fact a genie; they had warrior women there with magic archery weapons; a man who could call down the lightning with but a gesture."

Cassim gawked; no, he had lived in Agrabah for decades, this could not be so.

"You led us to a place of madness," the Asian snarled, fingering a sai, "we had no chance against such magic. And then, two monsters appeared upon their doorstep as we fled; and they spoke to the groom as if old friends."

Yes, the groom, Sahid thought, this was a good a time as any to tell Cassim his suspicions.

"I…I know not what to say," Cassim confessed at length, "we were so very careful; we checked for the presence of magic."

"Then this Agrabah keeps its secrets too well even for us," the Asian retorted, "but, we must never venture near it ever again."

"But," one of the triplets chanced, "what of the other men?"

The knife-wielder sneered. "They are on their own."

Everyone looked to Cassim.

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**A/N: **Yeah, ending this here. Going to work soon; but wanted to at least upload this. Enjoy! Plz leave a review!


	75. Chapter 75: Regrouping

**A/N: **Hi y'all! I continue to be amazed at how much support this fic has gotten; and I never cease to be grateful for that, your love and encouragement over this fic has really fueled me, especially in recent weeks to keep going, even with ALL else that is on my plate right now. So, many, many thanks for that; you guys are awesome; plz don't forget it! Onward

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 75: Regrouping _

Sadira took in the demolished chamber and strewn occupants in a second.

"What happened?" she asked Mozenrath, rushing over to him, even as her gaze was locked with worry on the princess, who was rising slowly and shaking her head as if dazed.

Mozenrath briefly wondered if she was all right. Hands grasped his arms.

"Are you injured?" the sand mouse inquired, her eyes expertly roving him for bleeding or telltale signs; a slight moan drifted from a far corner.

Mozenrath glanced in that direction; lost as to whom-?

Till it mercilessly hit him: it was Xerxes.

Humiliation and guilt formed an acidic knot in his stomach. He flinched.

"Xerxes!" the mouse blurt out, darting over to him.

Mozenrath's feet apparently thought this the best time to make a discreet exit; he didn't argue the point. It was a horrible place to find himself; too many feelings festered within him in that vile chamber, he wouldn't linger to be preyed upon by them any further.

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Sadira scooped a swaying Xerxes, who's mismatched eyes were bleary and out of focus; he'd obviously taken a good blow to the head.

Sadira gently massaged his brow, whispering healing over him as she heard Jaz get her bearings and the guards as well, rising and checking their weapons.

Maybe now she could get some answers.

"So…who wants to tell me what happened?" she threw out.

Clearly not Razoul, who stormed from the chamber after he gave the room a cursory glance; Sadira mused over who or what he was looking for until she realized they were short an occupant: their temperamental wizard was gone.

She hastily scrutinized the piles of gold and such; but, where did he go? And more important; what would possess him to leave Xerxes like this? Didn't he care about-?

And then it hit her like a sandstorm; he'd been responsible.

The wet sound of something shaking snapped her back to the present.

Jaz knelt down beside her; caramel eyes met sapphire.

"Why did he do this?" was all she had to question.

Jaz proceeded to fill her in.

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Razoul was followed by four of him men.

"He'd done all the damage he could to the Treasury," Razoul thought aloud, "but he wouldn't just leave, especially without his pet, unless he was up to more evil."

His men murmured their assents.

"We have to find him before the street rat or sultan; their coddling him is what brought this on us," Razoul said with a growl.

He could only think of one logical place that would draw a dark wizard:

The throne room.

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All eyes were on Cassim.

The Oracle suddenly felt very heavy in his bag; on the one hand, he couldn't stomach the idea of abandoning his men. He was their King, their leader; what sort of leader would desert his own, especially when such disaster was upon the horizon?

On the other hand; what of his boys? If this Desdane was in fact a looming force of devastation, what kind of father would forsake them, even for a day, especially now?

The Oracle was so very heavy all the sudden—

Wait; the Oracle!

"Men," Cassim gravely spoke, "we have much to decide on," and his men all started, rarely did Cassim delegate decision-making as a group process, "Sahid and I overheard talk in the palace; talk of a great sorcerer, Lord Desdane who once ruled a vast realm thousands of years ago—"

His men nodded; they had heard the legends. But he caught the narrowed eyes; wondering where this was going.

-"this Desdane is an immortal so it seems; he has…returned." The appalled jolts weren't unexpected. "And he is gathering armies of darkness to war against the Seven Deserts. He means to conquer and rule, at the expense of all life it would seem."

He took a breath, the gravity of the moment was weighty and burdensome; but he was used to bearing burdens, the loss of family did that, after all.

"There is a shred of hope for us though," he opened the bag and slowly drew out the Oracle. "This, is called the Oracle; a magical device that will answer a single question of anything you wish."  
"Cassim," Sahid said somberly, drawing near, "you sought this out to find your sons—"  
"Sons?" the Asian said, "Cassim, you never spoke of sons before."

"Because I don't know where they are," Cassim admitted, shaking his head despondently, "I've sought, but never found them. Yes, I hoped this would help me."

"Then let it," Sahid firmly said, "ask it about your boys—"  
Cassim hesitated, he was still King of Thieves. "The men—"

"_I_ will ask about how to save the men. Then we can be away from this place till has passed."

Cassim grasped his friend's shoulder and leaned against him as a vast amount of the weight suddenly fell off him.

"Thank you, Sahid; you are verily the true King of Thieves."

"Well," Sahid harrumphed, "I'm at least the King of Sense. Now; let us inquire of our new Oracle."

The men all gathered around in a tight circle. Cassim raised the Oracle up.

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**A/N: **I know it's not a lot; but it's all I could do today, plz enjoy!


	76. Chapter 76: The Powers of the Oracle

**A/N: **Hey y'all; thanks for bearing with me here, I'm taking one final class to close up spring semester and so the homework load is back on! So; I'm gonna try my best to keep the momentum going on this fic, but if you notice shorter chapters, you'll at least know why. Ok, so we're at a tight spot here for Al and Co. + new allies! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 76: The Powers of the Oracle_

Jaz was sadly able to give few details on why Mozenrath lashed out.

All she knew was she had come rushing in as Mozenrath had been beating the man who was most likely the thieves' leader; however, when it was clear the guards were going to try and arrest the man, the wizard had turned around and helped him escape.

Sadira's intuition whispered differently though: not escape, no—save him for later more like.

So, the question was: why? What did Mozenrath care about some thief who was looting the sultan?

The only logical conclusion was there was some other, still hidden factor; which could only mean there were more to these thieves than met the eye.

What sort of thief would dare cross a wizard of Mozenrath's skill—and temper?

Sadira made her way with Jaz back to the throne room where the rest of the 'team' was re-gathering. After Xerxes had come to, he had flown off with some mumbled "must find master," excuse; it was obvious though the poor little guy just wanted some time to himself.

Sadira made a mental note to kill the wizard later; she had to finish other business first.

It would also give her time and an outlet for her rage that he'd dare hurt poor Xerxes; better to cool off so she didn't rip his head off.

They entered just as Carpet, with Iago and Abu whooshed in through one of the large widows, and Abu chattered excitedly.

"That's great news, Abu," Al said with an exuberant smile.

"What 'good newssss'?" Mukhtar asked, checking his sword. Sadira didn't miss how nervous the guards were as they traded dubious glances whilst looking over Mukhtar and Amal.

"Abu and Iago found the thieves' trail," Aladdin supplied.

"Uh, just how many thieves are we talking about Aladdin?" Sadira was being nagged by a suspicion.

"Well, we 31 prisoners, but a few of them got away," was the reply.

Sadira looked to Genie.

"I counted 39 of them during the fight, not counting the guy who got tossed out the window by Wiz-kid," Genie filled in.

The room, despite being full of mages, guards, magical immortals, and such was suddenly quiet.

"The 40 Thieves," Jaz breathed, a hand coming to her garnet lips, "we should have realized—"

"Of course they would come to loot a wedding of _this_ magnitude," Genie said, sounding embarrassed, "oh Al; I should have been more on guard—"

Sadira thought fleetingly of his gallivanting and singing all over the city. Perhaps she should have said something after all. But as she opened her mouth:

"No," Al said firmly, putting a resilient hand on Genie's arm, "this isn't your fault Genie."

Sadira was suddenly surprised that Razoul didn't blurt out an implication that it was Al's fault.

Speaking of which, where was he?

"Fault-finding won't help now," Jaz cut in with a gesture, "if we've got the trail, then we need to capture the other thieves. With Desdane on the horizon, we can't be sleeping with one eye open because these men are loose in the world."

Genie poofed into his equivalent of Rambo. "Let's get 'em!" he said, his vowels rolling out perfectly. "And then I'll run up some stairs!" Dramatic pause. "Adriannnnnn!"

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Mozenrath let his mind trail behind Xerxes's presence very subtly as he stood in the open corridor above the assembly area Aladdin and his makeshift 'hero brigade' had congregated to discuss their final move in taking down the infamous 40 Thieves.

His blasted father had escaped; good. He didn't want 'sultan's justice' interfering with his anyways.

But, most of his father's men had been taken; better and better. His father looked upon his band of vagrants as his true family—Mozenrath seethed—he'd surely return for them.

And Mozenrath would be here, waiting.

Or, perhaps Aladdin would for once, be of use and capture the remaining thieves? Mozenrath snickered at that thought; it was so deliciously tantalizing: the great and fearsome 40 Thieves, along with their…'illustrious' king, were captured—another snicker—by some no account street rat from Agrabah. It was too perfect.

His father would be _thoroughly_ humiliated; brought from his 'exalted' position to the lowest of the low…perfect.

And then Mozenrath would finish their little 'interlude' and that would end it.

He'd know what Sadira's peace felt like…finally. He fidgeted nervously; he could scarcely wait.

He swallowed; his mouth dry as his brother came to mind. Where was he now? Was he even alive? Mozenrath thought he probably was; it was foolish, he knew that, but some inner certainty really never relented, this knowing was always present inside of him, like his breath and blood. He trusted it; but it couldn't help him locate his brother.

Without realizing it, he chewed on his lip. His brother would be…16 now? 17? Mozenrath assumed he was around 19, so that sounded right. His brother was still a boy; legally old enough to marry, but still very young. And since he couldn't remember his brother's name, what he looked like, or where they had lived before Desdane had taken him, where would he even start looking?

The Gilt Mirror couldn't help him; Desdane had enchanted it to not obey Mozenrath's commands to track his kin after catching him in the chamber one night very late trying to do exactly that. Mozenrath shuddered and didn't think of the punishment he'd received for that. Desdane had just taken most of his memories away as punishment for trying to escape—again—but Mozenrath had been obstinate; Desdane would not steal his past from him.

The wizard swallowed a lump in his throat; except, he had.

Below, the poor sultan was in some chamber out of sight, but Mozenrath could still hear his voice, insistently reassuring that guests that the thieves would be caught and their stolen items returned. The wizard shook his head.

They were pathetic; all of them. In a few days at the most, Desdane would unleash an assault on the entire world more horrific than these mewling buffoons' tiny minds could imagine, and here they were, complaining about their lost baubles as though they were their very lives themselves.

Mozenrath sighed; grinding his teeth, he headed for the location of the voices.

He'd show the sultan his own version of 'diplomacy.'

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As Al and Co. flew over the copper sands, Sadira was whispering as she sat atop Carpet with her eyes closed.

The guards they had kept back at the palace; to watch over the sultan and guests, Jaz had told them. Sadira was just happy they wouldn't be around to interfere. Aside from the usual crew, Mukhtar and Amal were with, Sadira assumed it was because they were still unknowns at the palace still, and while the others, Pector and such had stayed to back up the guards (or visa versa, Sadira thought), would surely have stood with the pair, Al probably thought it best to just take them with; they fight well and would be useful—and away from Razoul.

"They're nearby, the sands say only a few more dunes and we'll be on top of their lair," she said.

Beside her Genie harrumphed. "Oh, sure, bring the sand witch; after all, Genie can't find thieves in a sand fortress…I only lived in one for 10,00 years, but that doesn't count—"

"Genie," Jaz said.

Genie only mock-pouted, arms folded with the trademark disgruntled-kid expression on his face.

Al only shook his head.

Sadira ignored the exchange, keeping part of her sense back in the palace; from what she could feel, Mozenrath had cooled off somewhat from…whatever that meltdown was in the Treasury, but she wasn't going to take her chances. If his temper ignited again; she'd teleport back in a second to do 'damage control.'

It was such a quandary; she understood him so completely in so many areas, and yet in others he was as much an enigma as ever before. It was a puzzle; he was a puzzle…and Sadira felt like she only had part of the pieces in hand.

And Desdane had the missing ones.

A few moments later:

"Guys, we're here."

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Cassim lifted the Oracle over them and asked it to come forth. He got blinks of confusion on why to ask the Oracle to "come forth," if it's already there; the next moment they got their answer.

Opal-colored light burst from the large emerald stone, filling the huge assembly chamber, overwhelming the fire pit near the back and swathing everyone in pastel lights. The men gasped in awe as an entity, clearly a woman by her features poured out of the stone, folding her transparent arms; her large sleeves swaying in a non-existant breeze.

"I am the Oracle of the Scepter," she declared; her soft voice ethereal, but still authoritative, "who calls me forth from my domain?"

The men looked to him with wide eyes.

"It is I, Cassim," their king answered respectfully, "I understand that I may ask of you one question."

"Indeed, for each man or woman who beseeches my knowledge, I may grant one answer to each of you," the Oracle replied, "what will you ask of me?"

Cassim didn't miss a beat; the answer leapt from his tongue before he could even feel the sweet satisfaction of finally being able to ask: "Where are my sons now?"

The Oracle's white eyes remained unblinking. "Your sons were both where you saw them last: in Agrabah."

Sahid caught Cassim before he fell over; impaled by raw shock.

"Your eldest, Farid, remains in Agrabah. He is there, at this moment."

"How?" Cassim breathed in amazement. The Oracle didn't answer.

One question only; of course.

"Your son Aladdin is in the desert, nearby—"

Sahid blinked; the boy from the wedding? Could it be?

"He is with friends, and—"

The fortress suddenly shook; stray debris, some of it large rocks fell from the jagged ceiling. One struck Cassim's hand and he yelled; unwillingly dropping the Oracle.

The brilliant light vanished and the entity was gone.

"No!" Cassim cried in dismay.

How would he find Aladdin now!?

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**A/N: **Well, hope ya like! Cassim got to ask! Plz review Thanks!


	77. Chapter 77: The Dagger Unveiled

**A/N: **Wow; we've reached quite a milestone in the fic, haven't we? Most of the gang is together, war is looming and now Cassim has inquired of the Oracle w/ Al and co. on the way! Well, plz enjoy, and review! Thx for reading! Onward….

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 77: The Dagger Unveiled _

Cassim snatched up the Oracle a second before Sahid pulled him to the nearest wall while yelling to the men to find cover.

"What is it?" his friend demanded, shielding his head from the onslaught of rubble.

Cassim's instinct was screaming the answer in his ears. "It's them; they've brought the Genie."

Instinctively, he pulled the cowl back over his face.

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Outside, Genie had turned himself into a treasure-detector, shaped much like the traditional metal detector; his face was the flat disc.

"Al! Bleep-bleep-bleep! I've found it! Their lair!"

Al jumped off carpet and ran up to his friend, who poofed back to himself.

"That's great Genie! How do we get in?"

"Well," Genie mused aloud, poofing out an enormous tome of dusty brown leather, "let's see…."

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A full minute of shaking and Cassim heard the loud voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once:

"Open Sesame!"

Oh no; they'd figured out the passwords.

"Men! To arms!" he ordered loudly. On the far side of the chamber, opposite the fire pit, Cassim heard the massive doors explode open and the force of the blast channeled through the long tunnel leading to were Cassim and his men stood gripping the walls for support.

Cassim's men yelled as the resonant blast tore through the cavernous chamber, howling like an army of banshees and the men covered their ears, some dropping their weapons. The Genie from before was in their midst as soon as the wailing abated.

No one recognized his strange costume and hair though.

He waved a hand disapprovingly. "What a dump!" he (she?) exclaimed.

The groom and bride flew in soon after on their…magic carpet? Cassim blinked, caught off guard.

What sort of _bizarre_ boy was this!?

Genies? Flying rugs? What was next?

"Okay," a red bird yelled raucously, flapping in last, "where's my treasure? You bozos better hand it over, unless you want to see me _really_ angry!"

Cassim tested his blade; all right, he'd never wonder _that_ again, for certain.

His men all collected their strewn blades and such as the boy and Carpet veered around to dive at them.

Foolish; too foolish in fact, this was why Cassim was ready to dodge aside when the boy lunged at him off the rug. An obvious feint.

The bride stayed aboard, and Cassim noted she drew out a whip and strange looking sword.

He felt his cloak; good the golden hand brooch was still there. He didn't let it be common knowledge, but the brooch was in fact a talisman capable of thwarting certain types of magic.

The strange boy from the Treasury, well; apparently his magic was too intense to be warded against.

The boy neatly barrel-rolled and grabbed a fallen sword.

"Hand over the loot you stole," he demanded.

Hmmm; he was a bit too young to have such a perfect battle stance. But, who was Cassim to argue?

Might be nice; a real challenge for once? He'd need the exercise to unknot his multiple bruises from the other boy.

He swung the blade. "And if I don't want to?"

The boy wasted no words; he just attacked.

Frankly, Cassim preferred it that way.

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Mozenrath's temper had refueled itself to full by the time he stomped into the doorway of one of the sultan's private chambers.

What he assumed were 'good friends' of the ruler's were standing around him, some of the young women crying over lost jewelry, some of the men angrily venting over stolen family heirlooms and the like.

_Well, why bring such valuable pieces far from home where they'd be vulnerable?_ Mozenrath despairingly thought. _Oh; that's right, for the bragging rights: "My ruby is bigger than yours," and all that._

Pathetic; too pathetic for words even.

With a whispered command, a fireball of light exploded in the midst of the chamber.

"Enough," the wizard growled after the shouting and screams died down. Everyone spun around and looked at him.

"You're all pathetic," Mozenrath snapped, "quarreling over your worthless trinkets when in a few days you'll all most likely be _dead_." He ignored the gasps of dismay by some and those scrutinizing his sickly face and plain garb. "Will your jewels save you from Desdane? When his armies of _undead_, of _monsters,_ of vampire-specters ransack your kingdoms, will your emeralds save you? Will your tiaras snatch you from the legions of _corpses_ and abominations that will rip you apart? No."

One of the women fainted.

Mozenrath quickly scanned their tiny minds, shockingly not finding much there and perceived the 'market list,' of items taken. He waved a hand and their exact duplicates appeared in a neat pile in their midst.

"There's your precious trinkets," he practically spat as they gawked in amazement, "take them and be silent. _Someone_ needs to think of a way to save us all; and your babbling is hindering my concentration."

With that, he stormed out.

And blissful silence reigned.

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At least it did until he rounded a corner and walked straight into Razoul.

Wait, why didn't he sense the guard's thoughts?

Oh; that's right….

The burly guard seized his collar and yanked him off his feet.

"What are you up to now, wizard brat?"

Mozenrath couldn't stop the laughter. It was so hilarious! Didn't this fool ever learn?

Apparently not; time to fix that.

One command later and his robe burst into flame; the guard's hands were seared and he dropped Mozenrath with a yell. The flames immediately vanished.

The other guards murmured in astonishment when they saw his robe was still perfect; not a single burn.

Of course, Razoul was flailing his now blistering, reddened and peeling hands. Served him right; the buffoon.

"Now," the wizard avowed, like a professor to his inept class, "I've been quite tolerant of your idiocy; but frankly, I've had enough. It's funny really," he added with a snicker and Razoul glared death at him; Mozenrath only chuckled at it, "when I first saw you, I foolishly assumed you might be of use; of actual value." He laughed. "But, how wrong you've proven to me, over and over." He gestured. "But…I'm forbearing," he gave them a look that made a few of them shiver, "I'll give you another chance to prove that I was right the first time."

One gesture later and the flying monster he'd unleashed so long ago manifested beside him.

"Get them," he told it coldly.

One piercing cry later, it flew at them. The guards all ran.

And Mozenrath's laughter followed after them.

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All right; he was in a better mood now. The guards were dealt with, the brainless guests were duly cowed; and now he could find a quiet place to think.

He found himself standing in the throne room of all places; he'd been wandering quite aimlessly, not encountering anyone—thank goodness—and he was standing just a short distance from the open wall of monolithic pillars where the sultan could stand with his royal court and survey his kingdom.

He'd once stood on that balcony and overlooked what had briefly been his kingdom; he wanted to laugh at the memory now. He'd succeeded, and had been so confident that he'd won, that no one could oppose him, outthink him; how foolish he'd been.

He'd left the pool open; he'd left a small chance, however miniscule for his enemies to return, to escape the Otherworld and defy him again.

He'd chosen to leave that opening. He'd often wondered why; he'd never left a portal open before…had he on some level wanted Aladdin to return? Had he wanted the brainless street rat to have a chance at saving his friends?

Had he not wanted Agrabah, not truly, for some reason?

He had given up trying to conquer Agrabah specifically after the Elixir of Life and he'd been sent off in that ridiculous balloon. He'd neglected to mention to the hero club that he'd siphoned a goodly portion of magic from the gauntlet to his own self again; he'd learned from Aladdin the foolhardiness of being fully reliant on the gauntlet for power. He'd also forgotten to thank the street rat as much.

Oh well; things like that happen. He'd put on a show of being helpless until they were out of sight…and then teleported back to his kingdom.

Aladdin was always so beautifully gullible.

"What have you been up to?"

He hadn't heard the mouse sneak up on him.

And blast it all, he yelped.

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"Just deep in thought." He knew she wouldn't buy it.

"Uh huh." Yeah, she didn't sound convinced. "Have you and your thoughts had a good time tormenting the guests and the guards?"

Her tone was so exquisitely sarcastic he actually snickered.

"I take it you don't approve."

"For taking my time up? No. For making me find the guards your monster chased clear into the market and having to dispel it for you: no. For scaring the guests half to death…" she shockingly paused, as though having to consider it. Mozenrath actually turned to her at that.

And…her lips were twisted in that hilarious way again, and twisted into an entirely new way when she saw his thoroughly entertained grin…which only made him grin wider.

"I'll have to think that part over," she finally conceded. "Meanwhile, while I'm thinking it over, is there any way you'd prefer I shred you to bits?"

The grin disappeared. "What?" was all he could think to say; she'd truly lost him someplace.

Toned arms folded; the look she stabbed into him with was actually slightly…disturbing.

"You don't happen to know why Xerxes was plastered on the floor a while ago, do you?"

And curse it all; those wretched, vile, detestable _emotions_ came back, attacking him from all sides with renewed ferocity.

He turned away, hands clenched as though to fend off that gnawing thing inside him, mutilating his stomach and chest with guilt-shame.

For some accursed reason, the mouse's opinion _mattered_ to him now.

And he didn't want it to, but at the same time—he did.

Why did nothing in his life make sense anymore?

"I thought as much," the mouse growled in declaration, "you know, Xerxes doesn't deserve—"

"I know that—" Mozenrath snapped out before he could restrain himself. He didn't look at her.

He didn't want to see the disapproval on her face.

"Then why?" she was mercilessly blunt. And he knew she was already aware of the answer.

And so he said nothing. They both knew his raging temper was the culprit—per usual.

"So, does that mean your precious anger is more important than the only person in this world who cares about you?"

Oh; she was cruel, so very, very cruel. He could feel himself collapsing on the inside, crumbling under the weight of all these…feelings; bombarding him from all directions without relenting.

And so he walked away; he didn't trust himself to speak, he felt like glass, wearing supernaturally fast, thinning, ready to shatter at any moment.

But she was suddenly there, in his path. He tried to veer around her, but she was so wretchedly nimble; she easily maneuvered to stay in his path.

He didn't want to open his mouth; not when his tongue could so easily betray him, not when his detestable emotions were so volatile that he was liable to say anything. He bit his tongue; just to be certain. She took the initiative without prompting.

"You so much as lay a finger on him again," she threatened icily, "and I take him from you; I know the magic, and I'll do it. Treat him like he deserves, or _I'll_ do it for you."

And then she was gone.

And Mozenrath felt his stomach fall through the floor.

Why…why did he still have to feel?

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Cassim kicked the sword from the boy's hands when the child made the mistake of getting close enough. But, he knew this battle they would lose.

The rest of his men were captured. It would seem the boy was cleverer than Cassim had first estimated. He had brought two other…friends with who had snuck in after the battle had begun.

Cassim had stolen glimpses of them out of his peripherals as he had dueled with the boy. One looked reptilian like, with head wrappings around his brow, fur-trimmed boots and wide lips. His voice was raspy and ominous, and he was clearly and expert fighter.

The other was even stranger though. Taller than the first, his body was a mix of dark emerald armor with one monstrous arm…but the other arm was that of a man. Moreover, while both of his legs were large, green and armor-plated with some dark fur, one of the feet was in fact human…and the other foot along with one of the legs appeared on its way to becoming human. Its face was much the same. He had one large, floppy ear and one human ear…though still green and his face had a beak-like mouth full of fanged teeth, but the part of his face around the eyes had human-traits to it…especially as one eye was large and yellow and the other, while yellow, was man-shaped.

It was forbidding indeed.

The boy glanced at his sword, now too far to retrieve; Cassim didn't wonder at how the boy's friends were now standing around them in a circle, they were waiting on and trusting him to end the battle.

My; how noble, but foolish too.

The boy pulled a new weapon out of his belt. Cassim's eyes widened.

No, he was imagining it…it, it couldn't be.

The child brandished a bejeweled dagger that Cassim knew all too well.

Because it was his.

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**A/N: **Ok, kids; that's all for now. I gave you two chapters quick; I want some good reviews for this! Till next time! Enjoy


	78. Chapter 78: Silencing the Infernos

**A/N: **Hello y'all! Yep, I'm a lover of cliff-hangers, for the 2 of you who haven't noticed! LOL; anyways, it's just fun…plus I know you'll be back to find out what happens next! JK; it's really just cause I'm a cliffy-junkie; no other reason.

Anyhow, we're at 13,500 readers; my poor brain isn't yet grasping being over 11,000, much less this…but it shows your guys' pervading awesomeness, so I keep doing my 'happy dance,' when I see new readers and reviews! Yay! Reviews totally make my day, I won't deny it, I'm such a sucker for them… Ah well; but we're at critical mass here, so onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 78: Silencing the Infernos _

"Where," Cassim gasped, "where did you get that?"

The boy's brow furrowed. "It's mine…and you're done; look around," he gestured, "you're outnumbered. Now surrender quietly and hand over the loot."

But Cassim barely heard him; it was hard to breathe, the room was suddenly far too small.

The boy had _his_ dagger.

"…_he is nearby in the desert with friends," _the Oracle had said.

Was…was this…?

"Did that dagger once belong to your father?" he couldn't bring himself to just come out and _ask_…he felt as if this was a dream that he'd cruelly wake from at any moment.

The moment was too _fragile_; he didn't dare break it.

The boy's eyes narrowed, as if asking: 'how did you know that?' "Yes, it was," his voice was hesitant; wary.

Cassim swallowed hard, regaining just a little control. "And, what is your name, boy?"

In his peripherals, he saw the boy's friends all tense, suspecting a trap probably; the boy adjusted his fighting stance, his expression clearly thinking likewise.

So Cassim hedged. "I might 'surrender quietly,' and return the loot…if you tell me your name in return."

Dark brown eyes narrowed more. "It's Aladdin," the boy admitted at length.

It suddenly took all of Cassim's self-control to stay on his feet. He heard Sahid and the others gasp in shock.

When his fingers went numb, along with the rest of him, he didn't care when he heard his sword fall to the sandy ground with a 'clop.' "And you were born in Agrabah?" he asked, taking a step forward.

He just had to know for _sure_; it was a foolish question true, but he had to be certain.

The boy nodded, his face now thoroughly confused.

"And you have an older brother, named Farid?" another step forward.

The boy's eyes widened in amazement; without surely realizing it, he lowered his dagger.

"And your mother's name was Bashirah?" they were now only a step apart.

The boy shook his head in disbelief, his mouth open, dumbfounded. "How…how did you know all of that?"

Cassim was too lightheaded, too overwhelmed himself to find the way to _say_ it; so, he pulled away the cowl, showing Aladdin his face.

Would his little monkey even remember?

The dagger hit the ground with a 'thud.'

"Dad," he breathed, incredulous.

So…he did remember. Cassim didn't care when the tears came, he was too busy smiling and nodding, too choked up to speak…too perfectly happy to be called 'dad' again, after all these years.

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Mozenrath liked the view from the throne room; he had never really thought about it before, but Agrabah saw a lot of the sun, with its clear, wide skies.

There were times when Mozenrath missed seeing the sun in his kingdom; he didn't really understand why—what did the sun matter?—but he did. Perhaps another stolen memory would have been able to tell him.

He sighed; now that he was alone and his temper had once again abated, his thoughts returned to their normal sharpness.

He hated it; his temper was both his greatest strength and his most terrible weakness. Unleashed, it afforded his magic so much fuel; his rage could amplify his power in catastrophic ways; but, at a price. It also clouded his mind; dulled his exacting senses to the extent that he oft times made very foolish mistakes…mistakes that cost him victory.

Mistakes that Aladdin or his blasted entourage exploited to snatch triumph from him every time.

Another sigh; and, he often hurt himself and Xerxes in the process…mainly Xerxes.

"_The only person in the world who cares about you,"_ the mouse had said; and she had been right. He was the only one. His insides wrenched, twisted and pierced with guilt.

His accursed father's appearance had fractured what little composure he'd had left; he could admit that to himself now. He'd told himself over the years that he had accepted his father's abandonment of him; that he'd filled that void with magic, rule, exploring and relics…and defeating Desdane. He'd had closure.

He'd only been fooling himself.

He gazed at the sultan's lavish elephant throne. As crushing as it was, he had to be honest with himself. He couldn't afford emotional blind-spots when facing Desdane again; the wizard would use them to drive Mozenrath into making a mistake…most likely his last.

Mozenrath couldn't chance that, which meant he had to come to terms with his inner wounds _now_, no matter how endless they appeared to him.

He desperately wanted to avoid this; burying them had worked so well in the past…except Desdane could so easily dig them up and throw them in his face—and how many people would _die_ because of his refusal to confront them now?

Would it cost Sadira? Xerxes?

He swallowed hard; no, he wouldn't risk it.

But, if magic and rule wouldn't fill the gaping void left by his revolting past…then what would? What could he use to permanently silence the raging infernos of his temper? What tool could he call upon to ensure he stopped hurting Xerxes? And stopped hurting himself?

He didn't know. That was the worst part; he had so many questions, so many quandaries, but no solutions.

Perhaps he should have simply snuck in, quickly killed his father and slipped from the chamber before any saw him. But, he had so longed to make his father suffer as he had, to make him taste even just a sampling of the pain Desdane had inflicted on him for all those years.

He sighed; in the end, would it have helped? Would it have silenced his misery? He wasn't even certain anymore.

He didn't hear the sultan come in behind him.

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**A/N: **Short I know, but I gotta go to work in a bit. Enjoy!


	79. Chapter 79: The Sultan's Secret

**A/N: **Hey y'all; hope you're doin' good. We're at over 14 thousand readers! Totally nuts! Anyways, I'm gonna just give you the same hoo-hah about beings so awesome for sticking with this fic for SO long! We're nearly to chapter 80 and the war is still coming! LOL; in all seriousness, I never thought the fic would end up being this long; but, here we are. Anyhow, now questions; so onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 79: The Sultan's Secret _

"You have a strange way of winning allies," came a voice, startling Mozenrath from his thoughts.

Veering around brought him face-to-face with the sultan.

He repressed a sigh. "I would hardly seek allies from the likes of them," he snarked instead, turning back to view the city-scape. He hoped the sultan would take the gesture as a hint that he wasn't interested in being lectured about 'protocol' and all of that nonsense.

It wasn't he didn't know the guests were the rulers of this-and-that kingdom; he just didn't care.

Instead, he his eyes narrowed at the sultan's chuckle. "Oh," he said almost jubilantly, "believe me, no one in the room thought as such…but you did anyways."

Dark eyes narrowed more. "Did what?"

"Win them over," the sultan exclaimed, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "when you conjured the gems—"

Oh, that's why. He did sigh this time—

-"and they found them to be genuine, and not vanish after a time; they were curious about you; and so I told them—"

_That he's the depraved, psychotic wizard next door and to avoid him at all costs-?_

"That you were the wizard who tried to overthrow Desdane once, but he fiendishly tricked you, but they were very impressed with your daring and courage to even attempt it alone—"

_What!?_ _"Daring and courage?"_

"And they said anyone who would challenge a dark sorcerer, especially in face of such apparent youth, more than proved deserving of any and all allegiances the Seven Deserts can give. And so, they readily apologized for their…er…hasty behavior before and joined our alliance against Desdane." The sultan chuckled, surprising Mozenrath and added: "It would seem you were bred for diplomacy after all."

The wizard only shook his head; now, he had heard it all, either that or the day had simply drug out too long for him. "Send them home sultan."

"What?"

"Send them home; immediately."

"But, why ever do that, my boy?"

Mozenrath bristled; no one had called him that since…no; it was best to not think of it now. "Because they'll only get themselves killed; we need warriors, not fodder for Desdane's armies' amusement."

Not even the sultan's daft party guests deserved that fate. He shuddered.

Behind him, the sultan sighed, Mozenrath thought patiently. He made to walk away; he didn't need any speeches about their allies already numbering few; he was depressingly aware of that already.

"A few of them anticipated your saying that," the ruler said instead.

That stopped Mozenrath cold. They what?

"But," the sultan went on, taking a breath, "they reminded me, and so I the same with you: it's their homes at stake too. Surely you won't begrudge or refuse anyone wanting to defend their families and homes. In the end, it's all any of us have."

And of course, of blasted course, empathy decided to prey on him at that exact moment. Cursed feelings were making this so much more complicated that it had to be; why couldn't he just have come here, used Aladdin and these simpletons as pawns to defeat Desdane, reclaim the only home he could recall and then get back on to taking the Seven Deserts for himself? It would be infinitely easier than…than….

For an instant he was back in the Ferryman's boat, with that intoxicating sand mouse on his lap….

He shook the thought away. "They won't survive if you allow this," he protested to the sultan, hoping the monarch didn't wonder at his sudden breathlessness.

Infernal mouse; he could still smell the exotic flowers that fragranced her hair; she no doubt used them in her magic-work.

"It's their choice to make," was the pronouncement; and between his tone of finality and Mozenrath's lack of interest in continuing the conversation, he let it go.

If they wanted to go and kill themselves; who was he to stop them?

But of course, it was his luck and his insides wrenched with guilty foreknowing anyways.

He ground his teeth; he wanted this over, over so he could be rid of these insufferable emotions and go back to…to….

To what? Blasting Xerxes into walls? He winced at the thought. Back to battling that sickeningly selfless street rat? A headache was his body's answer to that idea.

Did he wish to go back to his previous life?

His throat dried; there was a desire to end this part of his life…but where was the desire to go back to the only 'normal' he ever knew?

There was none; only a hollow void where obsessive yearning usually burned out of control.

He glanced at the sultan's throne again; what was he becoming, if no longer the only 'Mozenrath' he ever knew?

What had he been before 'Mozenrath'?

In his peripherals, he caught the sultan note his gaze. "It's a comfortable seat; but you already knew that." His tone was strangely dry, but humored at the same time.

It didn't sound negative at all; he wondered why not.

The sultan was right after all; he had conquered this kingdom once, albeit briefly.

"I have no interest in your throne," Mozenrath tonelessly said, appalled at the raw honesty those words revealed, "I truly never did."

_What? What? What!? Are you insane!? What is the _matter_ with you!?_

Perhaps he was. Nothing in his life seemed to make sense anymore.

"Oh, I already knew as much," the monarch lightly said, bounding rather blissfully to his throne as Mozenrath tried to battle shock from his face.

_What_ did the old man just say!?

Snuggling into his seat to get more comfortable, the sultan only offered Mozenrath one of his: _"the whole world could be burning and I'd still think it's a great day"_ smiles. "Oh, yes, my boy; I'm an old man, it's true." but he grinned about something that made Mozenrath narrow his eyes; something that said age hadn't held him back from living life in every way.

Why was that not surprising?

He sighed contentedly, and the wizard was even more confounded. "But…my many years of life have showed me much—including about you."

Mozenrath felt the inner walls fly up at once. "Oh? Really?" his tone was utterly cautious. He knew better than to underestimate Agrabah—it's royal family especially—in any way.

Aladdin and his 'hero posse' had been diligent teachers.

The sultan nodded, his amiable smile persuaded the wizard to lower his defenses—just a bit.

"I don't pretend to know you completely," the sultan conceded, his tone still somehow cheerful, "but, I've observed enough and been told enough—"

_I'm sure of that_, the wizard dryly thought—

-"that I feel convinced of one thing especially: a boy of your youth and insatiable thirst for knowledge could never be satisfied with sitting all day upon a throne—" he made a face—"tending to the endless duties of an administrator? Oh, no, no, no. You're young—"

Mozenrath tried to not bristle again; the sultan wasn't trying to be unkind, after all.

"—with all of your youthful energy and ambition, you should be traveling the world; enjoying new experiences, seeing new places, trying new things." The sultan beamed, looking off and for some reason Mozenrath felt himself drawn into the monarch's narrative.

"You know," the ruler added, as an afterthought, "that is what Sadira has been doing for the last year or so; and it's grown her tremendously." He gave a happy sigh. "She seems…_happy_ now."

Mozenrath flinched angrily; he opened his mouth to snark he needed no 'growing,' but got tripped up over the latter part.

So…it was true then; the mouse hadn't been happy until recently. He let his tensed body relax; reminded himself the little sultan meant no harm.

The jolly man bounced off his throne and practically skipped past Mozenrath. He watched after the man, wondering how it was he was not even twenty and always felt tired, in pain and…empty. But, here was this old man, carrying the load of a kingdom, plus was hardly in the best shape, yet clearly had more vigor, energy…happiness…completeness than Mozenrath ever knew?

What was the little man's secret?

The ruler paused in the nearest doorway, as if recalling something. "Oh, yes," he said to himself, then turned to the wizard, "come with me," his tone became very promising, "I'll show you a chamber you'll like far better than this one."

He grinned…and how did he manage to make it so utterly innocent and yet so…conspiratorial at the same time?

All right; now the wizard's interest was piqued.

He followed the bounding monarch, who was humming to himself as they walked.

Mozenrath didn't hold back the snicker. _This_ man fathered Princess Jasmine?

He wondered what the princess's mother had been like….

And how the sultan had gotten himself such a wife.

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**A/N: **Well, here ya go ASJ Johnson; I didn't run off and become a thief! LOL; enjoy all! Plz review!


	80. Chapter 80: The Herbalist

**A/N: **Chapter 80! Omg; to be honest, I didn't expect the story to be more than 60 chapters long; LOL, right? Anyhow, the final war is coming, I don't want any of ya's to think the dialogue, etc. will go on forever; but there are a few more things that need to happen before the showdown with Desdane. So, bear with me a little longer, ok? Also, I took one more class for spring semester, so I can't promise the updates will be as fast as before; but I'll do my best. So, anyhow, we've got places to go! So, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 80: The Herbalist _

Aladdin could only feel numb as he gazed at a face he could scarcely remember…but at the same time recalled only too well.

His father.

Cassim was an older version of himself (or Aladdin a younger version of him, more like). He had the same facial structure, dark hair swept from his face in similar waves. His nose and brows were exactly Aladdin's; he was half a head taller, but his build was the same, except a little more robust. The only difference was the mustache and beard, which somehow made him gave him a mysterious air.

Aladdin didn't have much time to ruminate though as he felt his throat close, shock slowly giving way to…to….

He didn't know what to do when his father made a choking sound and practically leapt at him, gathering him up in a crushing hug a second later.

The startled sounds of Jaz and the others were mostly smothered by his father falling on his neck and weeping, whispering over and over: "My boy, my little monkey…."

Aladdin's mouth tugged in an unconscious smile; he'd forgotten his father used to call him that. Over his father's shoulder, he caught Jaz, Genie and the others all standing together, the thieves as well, off to one side.

Jaz's hands were clasped together as if to pray; her eyes were wet as she gave him an encouraging smile.

She wanted him to have this moment, Al realized, she was no doubt thinking of her father and wanting him to have this happiness—they all did, he noticed; all of his friends, even Iago who was poorly hiding it, wore teary, exuberant expressions like hers.

He swallowed the lump of amazed bewilderment and wrapped his arms around Cassim; felt his own tears come.

"Dad," was all he could say, choking up again.

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Razoul watched as the sand witch banished the flying green monster with a word and gesture; but only glowered at her when she told them to return to the palace.

Who was _she_ to order him? A vagrant magician: so very much like that wretched wizard boy.

One day, he'd end them both; if the sultan wouldn't look out for Agrabah and its _normal_ citizens, then he would.

"Find me an herbalist," he commanded his men, "someone who knows about magic."

It took a few hours, but one of his men sprinted up to him, saying he'd found a new herbalist, one who'd never traveled to Agrabah before, but came for the wedding—in hopes of finding new customers no doubt, Razoul concluded.

Well, if the man could provide what he needed, he'd eagerly oblige.

The man was aged and weathered, donned in a dark burgundy robe with hood that concealed nearly all of his face—probably to ward off the searing sun, Razoul deduced. He told the man what he was seeking.

"Ahhhh," the herbalist knowingly conceded, "you must have a wizard who plagues these parts then," his feeble voice avowed, "is he young or old?"

"Young—a boy still."

"Strong then," the man thought aloud, long, boney fingers sifting through sacks of bottles, "you'll need something potent to incapacitate him; and you'll need something else."

"What?"

"The element of surprise," was the answer, pulling a dark bottle with some…_moving_ liquid inside. It was an iridescent onyx color, and Razoul swore he could hear it murmuring.

"This is the potion known commonly as 'Wizard's Bane,'" the old man informed him, reaching the bottle out to Razoul with shaking hands; the guard took it and handed the man a bag of gold. "Now, you must open the bottle and quietly tell the potion the name of the wizard whom you wish to destroy. Then, pour the potion onto a white cloth and hold it to the wizard's face—" Razoul blinked at that and the man nodded, surely seeing though the guard could only see his nose and mouth, "yes; that is why surprise is crucial. After a few moments, the potion will begin to work."

"How long till he's dead?"

Razoul was surprised when the man chuckled with amusement. "That's just it, dear fellow, it won't kill him."

"What! I said—"

"But," the man emphatically went on, "it will slowly suppress his ability to concentrate, and therefore…his magic. He'll not be _dead_…but he will be _helpless_. Isn't that better, to have him at your mercy?"

Razoul had to hold in the shudder of glee; it was beyond better.

It was perfect.

"How long will you be in Agrabah?" he asked. Why stop with Mozenrath? There was also the sand witch…and then the other one; Desdane.

He'd finish all three of them; Agrabah would be cleansed of magicians forever.

Another chuckle. "Oh; I'll be here for another day or two. I have plans to travel to other kingdoms, after all. But, your city here is very nice. I'll enjoy returning to it again, soon enough."

"Good. I'll require your services again." He handed the man a few more coins, wondering briefly why the old man's hands were so very cold; age perhaps?

"Well, I'd be happy to assist with any other mages you might need taking care of," he helpfully replied, nodding to Razoul as the guard returned the gesture and he walked away, his men following behind.

No one glanced behind to see the old man stare after him, his eyes briefly glowing _red_, before the stand disappeared.

All of Agrabah went on as usual; all oblivious to the stall ever having been there.

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When Mozenrath found himself in the library with sultan, it somehow didn't surprise him. He had, of course, seen the chamber before, with its several floors of books, scrolls, tablets and such, and while the high-ceilinged room was both polished and impressive, he wondered what sultan thought could interest _him_ here.

And for that matter, why was sultan bounding over to that far corner?

Mozenrath trailed after him, no more confused than ever; there was the nagging thought he was missing something.

"Your library is quite grand, sultan," he said by way of probing.

"Oh, that is most kind," the ruler distractedly replied, halting before a long table with carved golden legs and marble top. On the wall which is sat against hung a mirror and two golden lamps hung on either side. "But, that's not what I wished to show you." He pulled on one of the lamps. Mozenrath heard something click, and the wall on the mirror's right slid open.

Ah; a secret chamber, that's what he had been missing. He ought to have foreseen this; still it was a bit too subterfuge-like for the sultan….

Without preamble, the little sultan trotted through, as if a child to his toy room.

Mozenrath grinned at his enthusiasm and followed.

The door slid shut behind them; all of it concealed by the opulent draperies covering most of the wall.

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It was a while before Cassim could regain control of himself.

He'd found one of his boys; after years of agonizingly fruitless searches, he was holding Aladdin once more. He'd found his youngest.

Hope resurged though him as it hadn't in nearly 15 years; he knew now, he would finally locate Farid too.

The Oracle said Farid was in Agrabah as well.

Did that mean-?

He had reluctantly pulled apart from Aladdin; knowing full well (though it took him a while to care), that he couldn't hold his boy and sob all day. He wiped his eyes only to have the genie hold out handkerchiefs to both him and his son.

He saw the princess and the rest of his boy's friends were already collecting themselves too.

He laughed at the sight (especially in light of their recent battles together) and took the cloth. He thanked the blue genie, and his son gave him a side hug, laughing too at how they all must look, going from ferocious duels to all weeping together.

The Lair of the 40 Thieves was once a dark, frightening and foreboding place—once.

He laughed again.

"Come, we'll build a fire and eat. I'm sure we all have a great deal to tell one another."

He didn't miss the look the princess gave Aladdin. Ah yes; that little matter of his father being the King of Thieves and how were they to resolve it, no doubt?

"Sahid, bring out the meat and wine. We'll celebrate the finding of my boy and speak of the future."

"Of course, my king."

"Men, assist Sahid."

His men gave their 'guests' wary glances, but mumbled assent and followed Sahid to another chamber.

Cassim turned his attention to the princess, sighing levelly. "Yes, Your Highness, I'm not unaware of what I am and what I've done; I'm sure none of you are either."

The princess nodded soberly. "We'll have to talk this out; but…my father is a good man. I'm sure we can find a way to settle all of this."

Cassim nodded, fully aware it wouldn't be as easy as she was trying to present. She was being optimistic for Aladdin's sake. The gravity in his boy's eyes said quite loudly he wasn't blind to reality.

Cassim repressed a second sigh, not wanting to think about how Aladdin must have been forced to live all those years. He tightened his hold on his youngest, and steadied himself. Aladdin wouldn't vanish if he let go of him.

It would take some time to accept that notion, Cassim was certain.

"Come to the fire. We'll eat and negotiate."

Another nod from the princess. "We'd like that." Cassim was on one side, holding Aladdin but the princess took his boys' hand and walked on the opposite side.

The two creatures, the genie and others trailed after as they headed for a small camp-fire.

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Mozenrath stood near sultan in a much smaller chamber than the library, but it was clearly a library as well.

But, this one came with a few…added features.

For instance, there was a single, smaller window on the far wall, but Mozenrath smelled an enchantment on it to be unnoticeable. He could also tell who had cast the magic:

Jafar.

Wonderful; Jafar had known about this little room, that of course filled Mozenrath with no shortage of comfort—ugh.

He wouldn't have been worried about that, except for the 'features' that filled the chamber: they were all magical relics.

This was a relics' library.

Mozenrath absorbed the walls of bookcases filled with magical scrolls sealed with bejeweled clasps, knives, swords, magical weapons were displayed everywhere, stacks of silk-wrapped clay tablets, stone runes and the like were all over; and of course there were an overabundance of magical tomes.

The wizard found this incredulous, but more so was the fact that many of the relics were in fact monumental finds! Most of them Mozenrath had sought himself. But…where had the sultan found them?

He decided to ask him.

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**A/N: **Well, that's all for now. I hope you like; plz review!


	81. Chapter 81: Campfire Stories

**A/N: **Wow; you guys are SO incredibly sweet with your reviews! They make me SO happy every time you send them; I can't even tell you how much! I'm kinda self-critical and sometimes think my writing is awful; but you guys are SOOOO epic with your kind words and fabulous encouragement; thanks soooo very much for it!

And here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 81: Campfire Stories_

As they sat around the campfire, Jasmine didn't miss the lingering tension.

She sat beside Aladdin, Iago on his shoulder; Genie was on Al's left, Abu on his lap.

Across from them, Aladdin's father sat beside Sahid, who didn't seem completely sold on the idea of trusting them. He was clearly Cassim's second in command, though Jasmine smelled on him a lingering air of someone who also took over when he sensed it was necessary—as well as a protectiveness for his 'king.'

The only one who really ate with relish was Iago, who kept nibbling from Al's plate as they talked, asking between their pauses in conversation: "Hey Al…you gonna eat…?" and Aladdin would half-listening to him, just shake his head.

Iago cleaned off most of the plate before Al even touched it.

As Cassim told his story, Jasmine found it less difficult to believe him. The pain in his face, the lines that obviously resulted from years of stress and despair, no; she had lived in the palace all her life, where courtiers acting to curry favor was a daily occurrence.

Jaz knew acting when she saw it; this wasn't acting.

This was a father who had nearly given up, from sheer hopelessness.

"…and when I came home," Cassim was saying, his head shaking at the memories as he stared into the fire, "you were gone. The neighbors told me where Bashirah was buried," he mostly concealed a choking sound and Sahid put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing as Cassim rubbed his eyes, "they told me about the raiders; how you vanished. I…I feared the worst. I never…found Farid." Another choking noise; Jaz swallowed a lump of pity in her throat, remembering how she had been taken by the Galifem. Her father had immediately followed after; what would it have done to him had he never been able to rescue her?

She had a pretty good idea she was seeing it now.

"There…there was nothing?" Al asked hesitantly; clearly not wanting to hurt his father by inquiring, but also not able to hold back the question, "never a trace at all?"

His father looked up; his eyes bright and wet and shook his head. "No," he forced out and swallowed hard, "but...," and he suddenly grinned wide, catching them all off guard, "today, finally we have a lead."

Al immediately perked up. "Really!? You know where he is?"

Something like confusion, and then disappointment shadowed Cassim's face for a moment and Jasmine wondered why, until it passed and he reached into a brown satchel that lay at his feet.

She was even more confused when Cassim's gaze met hers, then Al's again. "I am sorry, you two, for taking this," he tentatively avowed, pulling something from the bag, "but, after years of fruitless searches; I…I became desperate." He showed them a long, golden scepter crowned with largest, most beautiful emerald Jasmine had ever seen.

It was Genie who broke the heavy silence. "Whoa! An Oracle?" He looked incredulously at Jaz. "Girlfriend, where were you _registered_?!"

"On Oracle!?" Iago put in, spitting out some grapes. "Al! Do you have any idea what those things can _do_?!"

Genie opened his mouth to probably answer with commentary, but Cassim interceded.

"It will answer one question of anything you want to know," he supplied, handing it to Jasmine, "I asked where I could find my boys—"

Al's gaze riveted from the scepter to his father. "And what did it say about Farid?" he eagerly questioned.

Cassim gave him a level stare. "That he's in Agrabah."

"What!?" Al shouted, leaping to his feet. His empty plate clattered to the ground and Iago and to grab his tunic to keep from falling off. "Did it say where!?"

Cassim shook his head. "No," he gravely admitted, and Jaz pursed her lips at seeing Aladdin deflate. "Only that he is there."

Aladdin suddenly seemed thoughtful; but Jaz also caught the musing way Cassim was looking at Genie.

"I was," Cassim slowly confessed, "going to ask about your Genie." Al looked at him. "Have you used all three wishes already?"

"Ugh," Iago cut in, face palming with a wing, "don't ask; please. It's just too painful."

Cassim looked disappointed; but Al only grinned.

"Dad, he's a free Genie," he replied, and Cassim's countenance became hopeful; Al turned to Genie. "Can you help us find Farid?"

"Well," Jaz put in, looking over the Oracle, "we can all help, can't we? Genie can use his magic, I'm sure Sadira would do the same—" Genie grimaced and folded his arms at that, apparently not liking his moment stolen—"and I'll ask the Oracle where in Agrabah Farid is."

Al practically pounced on her. "Oh, Jaz, what would I do without you?"

She kissed him and smiled. "Well, fortunately for you, you'll never have to find out."

Al only grinned at her.

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It was no small relief to Cassim to see his son happy. While it didn't necessarily lessen the guilt of taking so long to find him, it was a balm to not find his son scrounging the streets for a few scraps a day to survive on, alone and miserable.

Because he had no delusions of how his boy had lived before meeting the princess.

It eluded him how Aladdin could have _met_ the heiress of Agrabah; from what he knew, Princess Jasmine was forbidden to even leave the palace; so, how had she met his boy?

He'd make a point to ask later on; but, they were clearly in love, so that was more than enough for now. But…he could guess the Genie played an integral role….

And his youngest had accumulated quite an interesting group of friends. The genie was the most startling of all; besides being betrothed to the royal daughter, the monkey and parrot weren't so unexpected—though he thought the monkey ironic, considering his boy's childhood nickname—but the fact that the parrot wasn't some mindless mina-bird, that was interesting.

He suspected magic to be involved in that; wizards could awaken the minds of regular animals, Cassim had discovered once while traveling, no doubt that was the case here.

But…the Mukhtar was even more unexpected; yes, Cassim had heard of them too, as well as the Shadowalkers, also known as the El' Khatib. He'd never learned who it was who commanded the Shadowalkers, only that they existed, but lo and behold, his Aladdin had befriended one of _them_ too; even calling him by name: Amal, apparently.

Cassim's stomach did tie itself in knots though as he pictured what sort of unimaginable dangers his boy had to have faced, in order to assemble such a circle of friends.

It wasn't by sleeping in a hovel or stealing for scraps; that was for certain.

Nonetheless, his boy seemed healthy and happy; he was content with that—for now.

He was jarred from his thoughts by the princess turning the Oracle over in her hands. "Oh," she said, her eyes narrowing—with worry.

That was bad. He rose.

"What is it?" Al asked, putting a hand on the scepter.

She turned the Oracle so they could all clearly see the magnificent emerald….

And the large crack that tore down its center.

"It's broken," the princess needlessly said, "now what do we do?"

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**A/N: **Enjoy! Plz review!


	82. Chapter 82: Homage & Revelation

**A/N: **Hey y'all! Thx for all the lovely reviews! Work's been super busy plus school, so I get a real 'pick me up' from your feedback No questions, per se, but I LUV your guys' comments; they're just sooo much! Plz keep 'em coming OK, so here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 82: Homage & Revelation _

"How did you come to possess so many relics?" Mozenrath couldn't bar the bafflement from his voice. The boy-ish, toy-loving sultan of Agrabah: a secret collector of magical relics? He wanted to assume that is had been Jafar who had uncovered them, but no, something didn't feel right about that.

The little sultan puffed up proudly (yet the boyish grin made the action totally innocent-looking). "Well," he began, with a gesture that took in the chamber, "this is the focus of _my_ youth. You see? Travel is good." He sighed, remembering something pleasant, Mozenrath deduced from his wistful smile. "I met my second wife on one of my quests," he pursed his lips, "I suppose you've noticed how much older I am than Jasmine"- Mozenrath nodded—"my first wife died after we had been wed for about ten years…during a plague. We had had four children together," he put his head down, his cheerful face shadowed by some pain, "fever took them; it ravaged Agrabah some years ago. I left to…to forget for a while. A man just doesn't bury his family and go on, sultan or no."

Mozenrath was relieved the sultan still studied the fine polished flooring; he fought to keep his expression neutral, but was failing; those cursed emotions were consuming him in a whirlpool.

_A man couldn't bury his family and simply go on? Why not? His father had._

"But your second wife helped you to accept," he chanced at length.

The sultan shrugged. "I don't know if I ever did, only that her loved helped fill the void; helped heal the wounds. She was a great explorer herself; some of her own finds are here." He glanced around, his sad blue eyes starkly contrasting his proud smile—proud of _her_, Mozenrath intuited.

He repressed mercilessly the need to swallow—to swallow his _envy_. It was sad really; his kingdom was easily five times the size of Agrabah, he was practically overflowing with magic (while the sultan only had relics he couldn't use), he was far younger than the little ruler…what was there to envy?

He wanted to shake his head. Who was he fooling? Certainly not himself; he let out a small sigh that thankfully went unnoticed.

It struck him, hard in that moment, just how fully the sultan had lived—and how little he had by comparison. Yes, the sultan wielded no magic; so what? He had seen probably the entire world, loved twice, ruled over a kingdom that while small, clearly loved him dearly and he practically drowned himself in _life_ itself everyday—and obviously wasn't tiring of it.

It was a shocking and numbing realization; to see the little man practically bouncing around the library, pointing out with wide grins the items his second wife had unearthed on her expeditions as well as the ones he was most pleased over discovering.

The little sultan, however old and magic-less, was alive; completely, blatantly and unapologetically. He immersed himself in life and not only didn't blink before jumping; didn't look back. Yes, he still wore the lingering traces of unceasing grief…who wouldn't in his boots? But even that clearly didn't hold him back. Mozenrath wondered why, until it fell on top of him like the palace itself.

The sultan was honorable. And by going on, by pressing forward even marred as he was by pain and loss, he was honoring his dead wife and children. By not succumbing to the living tomb pain offered he showed them his reverence and love.

It was hard, in that realization to not open his mouth and speak the spell that would enable him to switch places with the little man; no matter how blaringly his mind was shouting the _absurdity_ of the idea to him. Even if it were only a short time, he was seized by a longing so raw and ravenous, to know what that sort of life felt like.

Even in his pain, the sultan looked free; it reminded him of the mouse: scarred, yet liberated.

How? How did they both do it? Obviously not through power or rule, which was a struggle to accept—as that had been what he had tried.

It was unnerving and intriguing together, just how much he was learning about the street rat and his…entourage, in this brief time. He'd never been so close to them for so long in such a way that really allowed it. They were no longer merely enemies: faces that brought strife to his door and stirred his wrath as none but Desdane (and his father) ever could.

They were…people. Happy people like the sultan; determined people like the princess.

He thought of the sand mouse; what was she? He swallowed the lump of…everything's that knotted his throat.

No; there was no one word that could adequately describe her—curse his mind for fuzzing over like this.

"I was hoping one day," the sultan suddenly said, jarring Mozenrath roughly back to reality, "that one day I'd have a royal mage in my court; someone who could command these for the good of Agrabah…for the Seven Deserts together." He let out a remorseful sigh. "But…I did have a magician in my palace"-Mozenrath nodded knowingly—"but, he proved false, a traitor. I offered his position to Aladdin—"…once that would have amazed the wizard; but not now—"but, he refused. He said he could do more good outside the palace." A chuckle. "And…in hindsight, he proved himself right…and he has no magic in any case."

_Yes, well, even_ Aladdin _was bound to do that…eventually_, the wizard reflected wryly.

"But," the sultan added, his tone more dramatic now, "I'm hoping that you and Sadira will put this room to use."

Mozenrath reached behind him unconsciously and grabbed the back of a chair.

There was no possible way he heard that correctly—

The sultan nodded, smiling with satisfaction at the wizard's wide-eyed amazement. "Oh; I'm quite in earnest. I spent years tracking down these relics in my younger days; I don't want them going to waste."

_And… he didn't think letting_ Mozenrath _use them would be exactly_ that?!

The room spun for a moment before the wizard forced his composure to take control again. "And…might I ask," he carefully said, "_why;_ after all I've done? Why trust this all to me; when you have the sand m—witch."

The sultan actually smirked. "Because, you're not a fool," he declared quite openly, and Mozenrath blinked, "if we lose to Desdane, you'll lose more than any of us. Ergo, you have the most incentive to help us triumph."

Well; when he phrased it in that fashion….

"I see," Mozenrath heard himself quietly reply, though he felt too numb to have spoken those words himself. He took a centering breath, his mind taking his now utterly _shattered_ conception of the sultan (which it had held until a few seconds ago) and scrambled to reassemble the pieces—into an outlook that was more…accurate.

He wondered, as his thoughts scrambled to make sense of what was happening (though part of him whispered sarcastically that in Agrabah, they hadn't adopted 'sense' as yet—they'd adopted Aladdin instead), just how accurate his assessments of the other 'entourage' persons were…incomplete. How well had he figured out the street rat? The princess? The pet genie? Were there other traits inside of him that if they deigned to reveal them, he'd be left reeling as the sultan so easily had done to him now?

He couldn't withhold gulping at the concept, because it seemed now only too likely.

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"Genie," Aladdin asked, gently taking the Oracle from Jasmine and handing it to his friend, "can you fix this?"

Genie poofed into a jeweler, complete with small eye-scope. "Gee Al, I'll try…but…uh…."

"'But, uh,' what?" Iago asked testily. "You have magic, it's magic. Make with the 'poof-poof'!"

Genie's shoulders dropped as he leveled Iago a look. "'But, uh' it's an Oracle. These things are older than genies even. It can answer a question of anything…no rules, remember? Even genies come with three rules. It makes Oracles…uh…different."

"Oh great," Iago mumbled. "No asking about treasure-locations then."

Jasmine delicately took the Oracle back, her mind groping for ideas. It was hard enough to watch the play of gut-wrenching disappointment on Aladdin's face; but as his father was mirroring it perfectly—and looked just like Aladdin; it was like watching two Aladdin's.

And one was already one too many.

"It's a magic emerald," she thought aloud. "So, it's a rock."

"And?" Iago asked.

"Well, sands are rocks too; maybe Sadira—"

"Oh, of course," Genie dramatically put in, folding his arms, "let's ask the all-powerful sand witch; why bring the useless genie at all? From now on I'll just stay home and think about how I used to make a difference"—he poofed into an old man hunched over in a rocking chair—"kids," he said, his voice now wobbling and feeble, "just have no respect anymore."

"Oh, Genie," Al rebuffed, "you're always useful"—

"Not lately," Iago amended under his breath.

Aladdin threw a look the bird. "Genie, you're useful; but neither you nor Sadira can do everything. It's when you work together that you can really optimize your differences."

Genie sighed. "I guess that's a nice way of asking me to bring Sadira the Oracle, so she can look at it."

"No," Mukhtar put in, "I will bring the sand witch the Oracle. She is staying at the palace to guard Mozenrath, is she not?"

Silence reigned all around. Apparently it hadn't occurred to anyone that Mukhtar could smell Mozenrath on them. He nodded.

"Indeed; I know his evil stench anywhere. If the sand witch is examining the deviccce; someone must guard the wizard."

"In that case," Amal put in, "I'll go with you. All seems well enough here." He tossed the other thieves a murderous (and promising) glower to emphasize his point. He saw the message was 'received.'

"Very well," Mukhtar agreed in his raspy voice, "give me the Oracle. I shhhall deliver it."

Jasmine did. "But, Mukhtar, don't hurt Mozenrath. We've got a lot to explain yet about him; but for the time being, he's working with us."

Mukhtar looked doubtful. "Desssdane's apprentice?" he practically spat. "Impossible. He only works for his own ends; as Desdane taught him too."

He was met by a sea of startled faces. "You know about Desdane?" Jasmine asked.

Mukhtar nodded.

"How?"

"Later," Mukhtar replied, but not unkindly, "we have much to do now." He held out his leathery hand.

Jasmine relinquished the Oracle. "Promise me you won't hurt him."

"I give my word…unless his actions make him dangeroussss." He regarded them for a moment. "Your nobility is…becoming; but misplaced. Mozenrath was driven mad by his massster; your kindness cannot cure him. He is already lost."

Aladdin was seized by a deep, gnawing chill at that. "No; Sadira cured him of that."

Mukhtar shook his head. "There is no 'cure' for Desdane's magic; he is blight and a curse beyond what mortals can understand. His very presenccce is a plague on creation. No one so tainted by him can be…cured. Mozenrath is already lost." With that, he bowed and strode away to where Saurus stood waiting. He reached down and hoisted Amal by the arm onto Saurus' back behind him. They were gone a moment later, only the dust trail following after.

"See," Iago bluntly said, "told you so."

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**A/N: **Well, that's it for now. Watcha all think about Mukhtar's words? Is he right? Is he wrong? Plz enjoy; don't forget to leave a review!


	83. Chapter 83: Second Chances

**A/N: **Wow; we're now over 15,000 readers. Too much to take in! A million, billion thanks to all of you; readers and reviewers You keep me going…at 83 chapters and counting! I was asked if this'll go over 100…my answer: your guess is as good as mine! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 83: Second Chances_

Mozenrath looked over the chamber while coercing his composure to stop flailing like a flag in the wind.

It wasn't becoming of a wizard…even one who had had to endure the last two days as he had.

There were no excuses; only success or failure. And he was frankly very sick of failure.

The sultan seemed to perceive Mozenrath was back in control of himself. "Well," he good-naturedly said, his smile surprisingly benevolent, "I'll let Sadira know where you are; just send Xerxes if there's anything you need."

With that, he made to bound off.

"Sultan," Mozenrath abruptly said, surprising both of them. He swallowed as the little ruler started and spun around.

"Yes?"

He paused for a moment, scarcely able to believe what he was about to say.

He was tired of failure….

The sultan had proved himself an _honorable_ man, a trustworthy man….

This was the right path to take.

Wouldn't the sand mouse be amazed?

The last thought was what spurred him on. "Should we survive this sultan"—

"We will."

Mozenrath tried to not be too heartened by the _saturated_ assurance in his voice—

"Should we survive, and should I manage to regain my kingdom"—because Desdane would have to be actually dead for that to take place—"I…I want to offer a peace treaty to Agrabah."

There he had said it; his stomach was in as many knots as he had expected—and the sultan appeared as incredulous as he had anticipated—

_The sand mouse; the sand mouse will be amazed, keep thinking about that…_.

"I would specifically want for our two kingdoms to be permanent allies; perhaps if you consent, your chancellor would be kind enough to do the honors of drafting the documents?"

He wanted to heave out a huge sigh of relief. There, he'd said it; he'd managed to keep his poise regal and gestures appropriately elegant for what he was offering. And he hadn't given away any signs of the _unbelievable doubt_ ravaging his insides.

He hadn't let on everything inside of him was screaming: _What are you doing!?_

_Sand mouse; sand mouse, sand mouse_: _keep thinking about her._

The sultan recovered himself very gracefully, Mozenrath thought, though the lingering dubiousness was evident behind those guileless eyes.

Guileless and youthful…Mozenrath waited.

"I…I would like that very much too," the sultan quietly said at length, although his tone was that of thinking aloud, "I have every confidence we'll be victorious over Desdane. A mutual alliance would be most welcome." But the sultan gave him a mildly shrewd look. "Are there any particular conditions that you would tie to it?"

Mozenrath grinned. Ah; he expects a catch then. "Only that you keep Aladdin at home; he tends to…wreck my décor."

The sultan chuckled. "He's a good boy; despite the history you two share."

"I'll decide on that _after_ I'm convinced he's housebroken."

The sultan gave him a mock reproaching look. Mozenrath only grinned unrepentantly at it…but saw the doubt still there. He reached into his side pocket.

"I believe it's customary to offer some sort of token," he began all business again, "some symbol of sincerity; here is mine." He held out the Mystic Blue Diamond.

The sultan's gaping countenance was more than reward enough. He grinned again.

"Where-?" the sultan asked, reverently taking it.

Briefly Mozenrath wondered why the sultan didn't assume he stole it.

"Xerxes found it in your old Vizier's chambers," was the reply, and the sultan's face jerked up in astonishment-before Mozenrath saw the sultan's eyes light up with some sort of realization.

"He had a magic staff," the sultan demurely confessed, "one he used to control me with."

The wizard only nodded. "I assumed as much. Parlor tricks were his only 'strength.'" He shook his head at the sultan's bewildered look. "Don't reproach yourself sultan; the control spells he used were fed by trust—your trust—which he misused. I'm only saying he had no true power; only the ability to manipulate and exploit. Hardly strengths, don't you agree?"

"I would more so had he not been so successful."

"Successful till your street rat landed on your door."

"That 'street rat' will very soon be my son-in-law."

"My deepest condolences."

The sultan didn't react to that; only examined his ring. "I have yet to regret giving someone a second chance," he matter-of-factly said.

Ouch; rebuked. Mozenrath couldn't restrain the flinch. The sultan only gave another compassionate, but knowing smile.

"But I have yet to give you a token," he said instead.

Mozenrath waved it away; glanced around the library. "This goodwill gesture is more than enough."

The sultan shook his head. "No; I want something you can show others as proof." He held out the ring.

It was Mozenrath's turn to gape. "But…it's a family heirloom."

"Yes," the sultan gently said, "so my sincerity should be quite plain, don't you think?"

Mozenrath gulped; hesitated. No one had ever been so generous before.

No one.

Fleetingly, the sand mouse's healing his mind flitted across his thoughts. Poor thing; what she must have seen.

He pushed the thought away.

"I insist," the sultan firmly added, lifting the ring higher. Hesitantly, Mozenrath reached out and took it. The sultan smiled again.

"Now, I have some duties to attend to. I shall speak to my chancellor, and then find Sadira for you." Mozenrath didn't have time to react when the sultan gently closed his hand around the ring, patted it and then bounded off with an exuberant grin.

His touch was every bit as gentle as the sand mouse's.

How fortunate the princess was, to have such a father.

He suddenly had to sit down. A small round table nestled near the one window, chairs on opposite sides. He sank into one, laying his head on the smooth, cool marble.

It was too much to take in; his life was both coming together and falling apart, and he felt as if he had pathetically little, if any control over it.

He forced his lungs to gulp in deep breaths, the ring in his flesh hand mercilessly cool against his skin, even as the warm calmness it filled his stomach and chest with unwound the menagerie of knots he called his insides.

It took a good while before he felt strong enough to stand again.

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Cassim took Aladdin by the shoulders after the two creatures vanished down the tunnel.

"This…Mozenrath," he began tentatively, "he's been living with you, in the palace?"

He made no effort to conceal his worry.

"Dad," Aladdin soothingly returned, "please let me explain before you assume the worst."

"Don't listen to him," Iago countered, "assume the worst. Mozenrath's it."

Al glowered down at him. Iago only shrugged.

"I keep telling you, Jafar avoided his master like the plague; but no, you gotta go and do the hero thing…like always."

Hero; so that's how his boy had met all of these…persons of interest. Cassim fidgeted.

He didn't want to coddle his son; but how could he simply look away from the obvious danger his son, it seemed, routinely threw himself into?

"Aladdin"—

"Please, let me explain."

Cassim reluctantly nodded when Sahid took his shoulder from behind.

They resumed their places around the fire and Aladdin plunged into the tale of how he had met this boy who was known as the Sorcerer of the Black Sand. Boy or not, he was clearly perilous to be around. Aladdin described their various battles, the princess and others adding bits here and there. Cassim did his best to not cringe. 'Mozenrath' was apparently sly, shrewd, clever and extremely powerful—but hot tempered as well; a lethal combination. The only thing from what Aladdin said matched the wizard's skill was his insatiable ambition. He was apparently scarcely older than Aladdin, but ruled over a kingdom, armies of the undead—Cassim had to swallow at that part—and who knew what else lie in that dreadful land.

But then, Aladdin plunged into new waters: how last night Desdane had returned, dueled against Mozenrath and won…and all the grisly details of what had taken place afterwards.

The wizard boy had been brutally tortured, nearly to death…and had been driven insane by the other sorcerer, Desdane.

Had the Mukhtar been right then?

Cassim rubbed his brow with one hand, that arm propped against his knee. "How do you know for certain that this…Sadira actually healed his mind?"

"We don't," the parrot deadpanned.

The princess waved him off. "Look the important thing is, Sadira is a very powerful and gifted healer; moreover, she's proven herself again and again. I trust her."

"We all do," Aladdin agreed. He met Cassim's eyes. "Dad…we still have to, um"—

Ah yes; the criminal history. Cassim nodded. Thankfully, the princess stepped into the diplomatic role again.

"If you return the items you stole…all of them," she evenly said, "I can guarantee that my father will be lenient; on the proviso that you agree to come with us and talk to him…and give me your word that none of you will try to loot anything while back in Agrabah…or try to escape."

All eyes were on Cassim.

"I'll go," he avowed, "they're my men, I'll take full responsibility. They follow me; and it was my idea to infiltrate Agrabah. So, the blame is solely mine."

"You are not going back there alone," Sahid countered his tone final.

Cassim leveled a firm stare at him—which was met with equal determination. "I'm the King of the Thieves; and our men are in their dungeon, if I go I might be able to negotiate their release."

"And then?" Sahid bluntly asked.

"And then you'll take over, lead the men someplace far from here until this is over; I'll stay behind and pay out my dues."

"You're not staying alone."

"You don't have the right to tell me so; I'm King here."

"Who do always say is the 'true' King of Thieves?"

The Asian snickered at Cassim's deadly look. "He has you there, Cassim; and none of us are cowards, we all stay."

The others nodded. "No one will ever say the 40 Thieves ran from a war," one of the triplets added forcefully.

The knife-thrower fingered his blades. "If this Desdane conquers the world, who will we rob if everyone is dead?"

The other thieves muttered agreement. Cassim frowned.

"And if you're all killed?"

"We take the Sorcerer with us first," another triplet replied darkly.

"That settles it," Sahid declared, and Cassim growled irritably, "we stay. We all go to the palace; we all join against this sorcerer. We have decided, Cassim."

"I don't approve."

"You never approve when Sahid proves you wrong," the knife-thrower countered.

Titters of laughter cracked the grim air. Cassim sighed; Sahid patted his shoulder.

"You always take your defeats very well, Cassim," he said lightly. Cassim's glare could have melted diamond. Sahid only chuckled, turned to the others.

"Prepare the horses; pack up the loot, and collect provisions as well, just in case; healing supplies too and your best weapons and gear."

Cassim only shook his head; well, there was nothing he could do but try to protect his son and men as best he could. His eyes met Aladdin's; there was something pleading in his boy's face that made his stomach wrench.

"If you came back to Agrabah," the princess cut in quietly, "and if my father offered you amnesty, would you give up thievery for a second chance?"

The pleading his son's face suddenly made sense; the princess read him very well then, it seemed.

Cassim swallowed. He had long wondered if his boy's would forgive him, once they knew about his…activities the last 14 years. Would they take him back?

"I'm not proud of what I did," he confessed in a low voice, trying to gauge his son's reaction. "I won't deny anything, but I won't deny either that I did it to find you and Farid. The 40 Thieves had the resources I needed; it was…I didn't see any other way, especially after so many years went by with _nothing_."

Aladdin swallowed hard, nodded. "Would you come back?" his voice was small, hesitant. But his eyes were wide and hopeful.

It was more prompting than Cassim needed.

"I will," he said, his voice cracking, as he reached out and grasped his boy's hand.

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**A/N: **Well, hope you're all enjoying! Plz review!


	84. Chapter 84: Into the Fold

**A/N: **OK, so we're making headway! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 84: Into the Fold _

"Dad, I wish you'd ride on Carpet with us."

"It's a rug," Cassim said for he was sure the hundredth time, "it lays on the floor; you don't ride it."

Carpet, Aladdin swore, made a huffing sound as it folded its tassels indignantly.

As they glided over the desert, Cassim and his men rode on either side of them on horseback; the 'loot,' weapons and such. They spoke little aside from whispering to one another, but Al didn't miss the wary glances they gave to Carpet…and Genie.

Al had to remind himself that things and people he now considered normal not that long ago were as wondrous and unbelievable to him as they were now to his father and the thieves.

And…here were yet more thieves who were meeting magical people and changing their lives slowly for the better—as he and Abu once had.

He grinned; Genie couldn't grant wishes anymore per se, but he was still changing lives.

He hoped Genie realized that too.

"What will you do?" his dad suddenly asked, riding to his right. "What plans has the sultan made?"

Aladdin went over the alliances made, dignitaries who had promised allegiance on behalf of royals unable to attend themselves, as well as Sadira (of course he had to remind them of Genie again, to avoid hurting his feelings), and then added there were others they were seeking out presently: Thundra, the Rainforest Guardian; Eden, Genie's girlfriend; as well as a few others. Cassim nodded soberly to what Aladdin said, but Al pursed his lips together when his dad said nothing.

"You don't think we can win, do you?" he had to know; though he probably should have waited until his men weren't around if he wanted his dad to be bluntly honest. A leader could make or break morale, after all.

"I never lie to my men," his father said, as if reading his thoughts, "they always know where I stand and what I think our chances are…it's why we were never caught…until today anyways." He hefted out a sigh and asked: "Are your strongest allies the genie, sand witch and wizard boy?"

"Uh, 'the genie' has a name," Genie deadpanned, folding his arms.

"Oh?" Cassim asked indifferently, "then what is it?"

"Uhhhhh…." Genie's blue face suddenly flushed scarlet. "Uhhh…."  
"Yeah, that's right big mouth," Iago put in, "tell them 'the genie's' name IS Genie!"

Cassim rolled his eyes; he couldn't stop himself.

Genie though, only impaled Iago with an indignant glower. "Ah, who's the residential 'big mouth' in this group again?"

"Lately; it's you. Complain about Sadira, complain about not feeling useful anymore," he waved his wings in exasperation, "I'm starting to feel outshined by you here! You're taking my spotlight! I'm the chief complainer here! I wanna speak to my union rep!"

There were only chuckles and rolls of eyes all around as they pressed on.

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Mozenrath collected himself after a while, and as his mind was too jumbled and scoured to want to reflect on previous happenings for a long time, he decided to put it all aside and begin researching.

Books were always a safe refuge. He couldn't even recall how many days he'd retreated into his books to escape lingering agony from Desdane's latest punishments, or to ignore the cold biting his skin as he languished in the dungeons; books were a haven, they didn't punish, didn't judge, didn't torment.

For a moment, he could smell the sweet fragrance of the sand mouse's hair as it brushed his face. He shuddered, knowing he couldn't think of that now, even as that feeling of _refuge_ strengthened in its wake.

He took a steadying breath, and turned the next page in the tome he was holding…only to feel eyes on him.

He leapt to his feet instantly and grabbed an enchanted saber displayed near the table. He veered to the secret doorway.

It was the Mukhtar.

"What do you want?" he demanded, expertly poising the blade in front of him.

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"You know," Cassim avowed after the conversation died down again, "you never really did tell me about the wizard. Why you suddenly seem to trust him. Your stories about him were…well…."

"Gory," Iago supplied, now sitting on Al's lap, "yeah, I know. You know Al," he turned up to Aladdin now, "you have yet to explain to any of us why you're so eager to trust Mozen-looney now."

"He's not crazy," Al reproofed, "I don't care what Mukhtar says. And without Mozenrath we have no chance of stopping Desdane. He knows Desdane better than anyone. We need each other to win this."

"Uh-huh, and if, in the Land of Make-believe we win, what will keep the crazy wizard from killing us all afterwards?" the sarcasm was dripping in Iago's voice—per usual.

Al sighed. "We'll cross that river when—and if—we come to it."

"And if we're too dead by then to care?"

"I don't like those sorts of possibilities," Cassim put in, "all swords are sheathed or I don't sleep at night."

His men muttered agreement.

"Dad," Al asked, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "why did Mozenrath attack you? What did you do to antagonize him?"

Cassim sputtered. "I didn't do anything; I went into the Treasury, found the Oracle, and then, he was suddenly there. He just attacked"—

"Because he's crazy," Iago commented. Al glowered at him. It went ignored.

"But, why? What reason did he give?"

Cassim shrugged his shoulders, his face thoughtful but confused. "He implied I had done something to him in the past," he sighed, his gaze far away, "but…I've tried and tried; I don't remember seeing him before."

Al heard something else. "But you think you should have?"

His dad pursed his lips and nodded. "Some part of me says yes. I just wish I had gotten a clear look at his face. All I saw were a hood and dark eyes. It was the eyes that I thought I recognized."

Al cuffed Iago lightly before he could comment about 'crazy eyes being pretty unforgettable.' "When we get to the palace, I'll talk to Mozenrath; maybe he'll explain why."

Cassim gave him a doubtful look. "And if your wizard doesn't feel so inclined?"

Al sighed. "Maybe he'll talk to someone else. Xerxes, or maybe Sadira."

Genie made a noise.

"He wouldn't talk to you, Genie," Al reminded him, "not unless a Crystal of Ix was involved anyways."

"Yeah, second that," Iago added.

"Do you think looking at him will help, dad?"

Another nod. "Eyes and a hood didn't help much. I tried to get a better look at him, I could see that he's very pale; he…he looked ill."

"He is," Jasmine clarified, her tone grim, "thanks to Desdane. I…I don't think Mozenrath really ever cared about his health much anyways. But, I don't know for sure."

Cassim nodded. He pretended to not notice when Sahid brought his horse up on his right.

"You'll not be in the palace alone, my king," he softly informed him.

"I can take care of myself, Sahid."

"The mad wizard could take care of you too, my king."

Cassim huffed. "That's insolence, Sahid."

"Call the truth whatever you like."

Cassim tried to stare him down, but Sahid only added:

"I let you out of my sight the last time; you were nearly killed. I won't err so again."

"Blast you Sahid, using guilt on me."

"I do what I must, Cassim."

Cassim tried the stare down again, but only caved; Sahid looked so genuinely worried, he only nodded assent in the end.

"If I had even an ounce of your subtly, Sahid…."

Sahid grinned. "You'd be a most formidable man indeed," he said with mock humility, then grinned his trademark 'the world could be ending and we'll still find a way to win,' grin.

Cassim couldn't help but grin in return.

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Mozenrath kept his posture rigid as he backed himself towards to window. It was the only other exit in the chamber as the Mukhtar was (no doubt strategically) blocking the other. He wasn't going to be caught up in that magic-repressing bolas again.

"Why are you here?" he snarled.

Mukhtar, curse him, didn't flinch. His body language, except in battle was deceitfully relaxed.

"I am here because you are."

"Don't be enigmatic with me," he threatened, summoning up his magic reflexively, it crackled around his bone arm, rippling over the silk. "You're not hunting Genie."

"No."

"Then who?"

"Desdane."

Mozenrath couldn't help but start at that. "Who would be mad enough to put a bounty on him?"

"I would," was the hissed answer. "I hunt him for myself…and for my people."

Ah; there was the explanation. Mozenrath lowered his sword, now certain there was no threat.

"So, you sensed him return then." It wasn't a question.

"Yesss, I was in a nearby kingdom, collecting a…price. The wave his magic released, I sensed. By the time I reached the Land of the Black Sssand, he had already re-taken the Citadel; you were not there. I tracked your scent from the kingdom and so knew you lived ssstill. But, I fear Desssdane is not alone in that realm, not anymore."

"He's called back all of the monsters then."

"Yesss, and more sssstill. He has assembled allies; I know not all of them, but one at leassst is the Sorceress Mirage."

"Agh," Mozenrath bit out, putting the saber roughly back into place, "that we don't need. I thought those two were through…after, you know."

"Their history? Yes, I know of it."

Mozenrath offered him an appraising look. "You were with Aladdin. They went after the thieves?"

A nod.

"I take it with his ridiculous luck, he found them?"

Another nod.

"Then you didn't come here alone to simply talk to me about your findings. What do you want?"

"I wasss here seeking the sand witch; but I found her already."

Mozenrath wasn't completely surprised by the surge of protectiveness that rose in him. "Why were you looking for her?"

"Because the Oracle the thieves took was damaged; as it's made of stone, the princessss thought perhaps that the sand witch would be capable of mending it."

So, that's what his worthless father took; Mozenrath had sensed powerful magic in Cassim's satchel, no wonder then.

An Oracle? It was no question of why Aladdin would want it repaired. If someone were able to ask it how to defeat Desdane, he exhaled when actual, pure hope trickled into his body.

"Ask her to come here," he numbly requested, "I'll try to help her."

The Mukhtar nodded, but didn't move.

Dark eyes narrowed. "There was something else; I thought so. What?"

"You know what Desdane did to my people."

Mozenrath nodded. "I do," his tone was grave. It should be.

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**A/N: **So, hope you enjoyed! Plz review!


	85. Chapter 85: the Sultan & the King

**A/N: **Bah-bing! More chapters down! Onward! Thanks for reading

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 85: The Sultan & the King_

When they arrived at the palace, Jasmine insisted that they be completely forthright with her father.

"Deception won't help Aladdin; we both know that from experience."

Aladdin nodded recalling how they both had tried to trick the sultan—for his own good, they told themselves, once with Hippsodeth and also when Aladdin was masquerading as 'Prince Ali.'

No, no more lies, he had decided long ago. They all marched into the throne room.

Al caught the discreet look that Jaz gave her father, because sultan dismissed the guards, saying Genie and the others would manage any complications, and that they could remain within shouting distance.

The guards grimly nodded and left—no doubt to tell Razoul, Al guessed.

"Dearest," sultan questioned, taking in the un-shackled thieves, "I'm relieved you're all back, but, what is this?"

Jasmine proceeded to explain, grasping Al's hand both to lend and take strength.

The sun may in the west, afternoon almost over, but he felt as if the day were only just starting.

He weathered the shocked and dismayed expression on the sultan's face when Jaz introduced her father to his.

Cassim sank onto one knee as his men brought over the stolen items, placing them humbly at the sultan's feet.

"I am Cassim," his father soberly proclaimed, yet the hint of pride in his voice remained, "King of Thieves; I hereby take all responsibility for my men's actions in your kingdom. I…throw my self upon your mercy, sultan."

Al couldn't stop flinching; he grimaced when he noted the sultan catching it.

He trusted the sultan, truly; he was a good man, the best in fact.

But…his father was _the_ high-ranking larcenist. What would they do to him?

He felt Jaz's hand slide around his waist, no doubt to steady him.

He gulped as his dad's men brought the bags of loot forward and placed them at the sultan's feet.

"I will take whatever punishment you see fit, my liege," his father said gravely.

"But not alone," Sahid said, kneeling beside Cassim, "we are the 40 Thieves sultan," he said, his voice unashamed, "we rise or stand alone; and we won't hide behind our king. What punishment he takes, we all take."

The other men all knelt around Cassim. Their king bristled.

"Sahid, I already told you"—

"And he already told you, Cassim," the Asian put in from behind him, "we don't cower behind our king's robes. We are men; and we stay together, always. That's what makes us different from those pathetic guilds. And _you_ chose _us_; so accept it."

Cassim sighed. Sahid had the audacity to chuckle.

"You wouldn't be our king if we didn't possess proper loyalty Cassim; admit it."

Cassim groaned. "I should have purchased a flower stand. They wouldn't talk back."

Titters all around from the thieves.

Cassim shook his head. "If you can bear to have us around sultan," he added, throwing a scathing look behind him, "we will stand with you in the war. If we survive, we'll submit to your justice."

Sultan nodded, his face lined with cascading thoughts, but brevity as well. "Guards," he called.

Aladdin stiffened. No; please not the dungeons.

"Steady Al," Genie whispered from behind him.

Five guards instantly entered; but blinked when they saw the thieves still free…but all kneeling before the little monarch.

"Bring the rest of the 40 Thieves here," he instructed them.

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Of all the beings in the world, Moze never thought he'd ever feel pity for anyone; but least of all, was the Mukhtar.

But the sad, insipid fact was, his stupid, uncooperative emotions were not willing to remain silent anymore; or at least limit themselves to rage and ambition. No…now they wanted to feel terrible facets, like sympathy, longing…and the worst of them all: empathy.

'_You know what he did to my people.'_

Yes; Mozenrath knew. And he hated the common-ground that he shared with the Mukhtar because of it; that feeling of: _'I know what you're going through because he did the same to me.'_

Simply hating everything and everyone made life so much easier.

But not better, a little voice told him. The sultan came to his thoughts, grinning and full of life.

He sighed. "Why come to me? Your vendetta is against Desdane."

"Becausssse," was the reply, "the only justice ever done for my people came from you."

Mozenrath blinked at that; the Mukhtar nodded. "Indeed. You were the one who overthrew him"—

"I didn't do that for you; or them."

"No," was the concession, "but nothing else was done. I was the only to ever essscape from him; and most of my strength was lossst, forever. Without the unity of my people, we Mukhtars are lesssss. We were once a great, hive-minded people; our onenessss was our might. Now, I am alone…and incomplete; forever-becaussse of him. But then you rose up against him. My people, though gone, were avenged through your actionsss. It was something; enough to satisssfy me. That was why I took your bounty on Genie; becaussse not of the gold, but because you sat upon Desdane's throne, and had cast him into immortal humiliation. I could have closssure, finally; all because of you."

Mozenrath leaned against the wall, his legs were suddenly rubber-like; he didn't trust them. His throat dried and it was difficult to swallow.

"I…I had no idea that," he tried to gather his thoughts, but they were flying about like a swarm of locusts; trying to grasp one seemed impossible. "I…I told you; it wasn't for you."

_Though now, I wish it had been_, he confessed to himself.

"A detail," was the raspy answer, "a minor one. My people were ended, by Desssdane. When you ended him, there was jussstice; there was never another who did more."

"You're not indebted to me for that." Was that what he was implying?

Mukhtar nodded; as if he'd assumed as much. "I am aware; but I do asssk a boon of you now."

Ah; here it was…the moment of truth. He hated truth. "What do you want?"

"You plan to faccce Desdane in the coming war?"

"No one else will have a chance." Would Genie? No. Sadira?

The mouse would be crushed under Desdane's heel; Mozenrath wouldn't chance that.

"True enough…but, you are injured; ill. I can sssmell it on you; the sickness."

"I will heal."

"Not sssoon enough." Mukhtar rose to his full height. "You will need an ally when you battle the sorcerer."

Now it clicked. "Desdane would kill you."

"No. It has been a very long time since I last fought him; 13 years in fact…but, I recall his techniques well. I ssshall be of use to you." He patted his leather belt, brimming with pouches, compartments, and such filled with, Mozenrath knew, was an assortment of weaponry most perilous to a wizard.

But realization belatedly hit him. "'Last' faced Desdane? What do you mean 'last faced'? I never saw you at the Citadel."

"No; Desssdane kept you well hidden from usss. I never came across you either. But, we did infiltrate the Citadel onccce."

"Why?" Mozenrath was lost now. Why take such a risk? For what gain?

"To sssave his latessst apprenticcce… before he became like Desssdane."

Mozenrath clutched the wall as his legs gave out.

The Mukhtars; the Mukhtars had invaded Desdane's fortress—to _rescue him_.

He gulped hard. Shook his head, completely baffled and overwhelmed.

"W…why? Why do that? You could have been killed," he stammered, his voice shaky but his mind was too overloaded to care that he should feel embarrassed.

The Mukhtar's face, already serious and grim, became more so.

"Assside from me, all of the others were," he solemnly declared.

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**A/N: **Hope you're enjoying! I gave y'all 4 chapters today! C'mon PLZ review! Especially y'all who never have before I've earned it, right?


	86. Chapter 86: The Memory Tree

**A/N: **Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Another chapter! LOL; enjoy Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 86: The Memory Tree_

"I did not intend to overwhelm you," Mukhtar confessed quietly.

Mozenrath sat back in his chair, his elbows propped on the table with his face in his hands. He saw, through his fingers, Mukhtar open a canteen of water at his waist and pour some into a cup; setting it down before him.

Mozenrath refused it with a shake of his head.

"It is enchanted to be cold as iccce," Mukhtar explained, "it will help revive you; drink."

Did he truly want his senses all intact for this discussion? Part of him said no…until the rest of him ordered him to drink it and not be a coward.

Mukhtar's people, some of them anyways, had died for him; goodness knew why, but for that, Mukhtar deserved his full attention. He recalled the Mukhtar race was practically obsessed with duty, honor, debts…and the young. Their culture revolved around those beliefs.

Who knew that they would ever impact his life in such a way?

He drained the cup, found it was blissfully cold, soothing his raw throat; he handed it back to Mukhtar with his murmured thanks.

"War makesss for strange alliesss," the other said by way of conceding to Mozenrath's reaction. "And…compared to Dessdane and myssself, you are quite young."

Mozenrath sputtered at that. "I can't even tell you the last time I felt young."

"Feelingsss can be deceiving," was the return, "you are a child; whether you feel it or not. I am over 9,000 years old. You are not even two decades on this earth; I can smell your youth, do not deny it."

Mozenrath was too tired to argue the point. "Why did you do it?" he asked instead, his face still in one hand; he braced himself on the table with the other.

Mukhtar replaced his canteen and exhaled. "We once were many, legions of us roamed this world in many tribes; we hunted, we grew foodstuffs, we explored the vastness of this world. But then, the witches of the sand came."

Mozenrath nodded; this much he had read.

"They conquered all the Ssseven Desssserts; at first, they lived in harmony with ussss. We were part of their Empire; we served in their court, we had influenccce and power. But then, a darknesss grew in one corner of the Ssseven Dessserts."

"Desdane."

A nod. "When he brought war to the Empire, we fought beside the witches. They had been kind to us, at least up until the end."

That part caught him. "What do you mean: 'the end'?"

"Their final queen ruled over a divided housssse. Many of the elders fell to corruption; but did not harm usss because of our skills with thwarting magic. They were wary of our kind. But, the younger witches wanted to return to the old ways, when the Empire was kind. There was much fighting between the two factions. This greatly weakened them against Desssdane."

"Which he exploited."

Another nod. "Many of my kind were captured by him during the War. They were killed or enssslaved; forced to build magic subduing weapons to be used against our allies. Jussst before the war closed, he ssslaughtered them."

Mozenrath let out a soft groan; he had unfortunately seen that coming.

"But, a sssmall handful of usss survived the blast. The Empire was gone, as was Desssdane and so we vanished into the far cornersss of the world…until he re-appeared about 14 yearsss ago."

_When he took me_, the wizard realized.

"He had gone into hiding, it ssseemed, but we sssensed his magic move over a kingdom…and take a boy with deeply hidden, latent magic—abnormally powerful magic."

Mozenrath nodded, realization weighing heavily on him. "Me."

"Indeed. We knew then that he meant to raise you to become like him: dark, power-obsssessed…an extension of himself. But, we could sssmell that you were but a small child; we spoke of the risksss and chose to try and save you—and so doing save the world, from him."

"Why?" that was the part that confounded him the most; there was no logical reason.

"Becaussse, in so doing, we would greatly weaken him; and…you were an innocent. You didn't dessserve that fate you had been condemned to. No little one doesss; nor did the world if Desssdane succeeded."

It still didn't make sense to him, why a group of Mukhtars would die for a human child; and the idea of him ever being 'innocent' was just ludicrous. His own father wouldn't take the risk to save him…so why did they?!

But…another realization crept up on him in wake of the other's explanation. "You know what kingdom I come from?"

The other nodded. "Yesss. Why do you ask?"

There was no reason to not tell him. "Because I don't."

Now the Mukhtar blinked. "Desssdane did take your memories then. I wondered; he is depraved."

Mozenrath swallowed and rose. "I will grant you your boon, if you do something for me."

"You wish to know which kingdom is your home."

"Yes."

Mukhtar waved to the small window. "Look out there; you will see it."

For a moment, Mozenrath didn't understand; what did he mean? If Mozenrath did that, he'd only see….

No. The Mukhtar had to be wrong….

"Agrabah," the Mukhtar said at length, "your homeland."

Mozenrath grabbed the table as shock assaulted him afresh.

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The other thieves were on their feet (at the sultan's bidding) when their captured comrades were herded in. Cassim turned around and mentally checked each of his men for injuries as they were brought to join the former 'escapees.'

Good; no one seemed badly hurt.

A very large, burly guard was glowering pure death at Cassim, and he especially didn't like the way his gaze was passing between himself and his son. Aladdin pointedly ignored the guard (which meant they had a history; that wasn't good), but for the time being, Cassim looked away.

He had bigger fish to roast presently.

"Gentlemen," the sultan began, and the large guard snorted and murmured something to another guard under his breath; Cassim pretended to not notice, "I'm sure I don't have to quote the laws of my kingdom regarding thievery; especially of the scope you tried to commit, to say nothing of your previous exploits that if even half of the stories are true…are exponential indeed." He took a breath and continued. "However, as you all know, we are sitting on the verge of war." And from here he proceeded to re-cap the synopsis for them of Desdane, what they have learned of his activities thus far and what plans they have made…and most horrific of all, the cataclysm of warfare they expected this Sorcerer to bring to the Seven Deserts.

Cassim saw many of his men, Saluk included pale at the terrifying revelation.

"And so," the little monarch concluded, "to be blunt, I have neither the time nor the resources to keep you all locked in my dungeon, especially as in a few days, this and all kingdoms might be no more. In light of this, I'm offering you a choice: for those of you who wish to stay and join our armies against Desdane, I am willing to sign full pardons in return. For those of you who don't, my guards will escort you to the borders of this city where you will be exiled from permanently; you'll be free to get as much distance as possible from Desdane and what's coming, but if we prevail, you'll still carry your crimes with you and if you return, you'll hang."

Silence reigned like a tyrannical judge.

"I want your decisions now," the sultan avowed, "we have no time to give you. Any man who agrees to battle in exchange for pardon, step forward."

Cassim inwardly beamed with pride that _every single man_ stepped forward—even Saluk, as incredible as it was.

He saw Sahid catch it too; and raise his brows in astonishment.

Saluk noticed. "I'll not have it said that I'm a coward," he muttered to them crossly.

Cassim and Sahid both grinned; ah, so like Saluk: could never be outdone by anyone—even when he was.

"Well then," sultan said enthusiastically, "welcome back to honest life."

The men all cheered and jumped around; the knife-thrower hooted and juggled his lethal blades in glee.

"Let's celebrate!" the Asian said, "I'll take us to the market and buy the finest wines they have." He reached for his bag of gold and it was gone. He looked around in dismay, until one of the triplets came up next to him—with _his_ bag of gold in hand.

"If you're broke my friend," he amiably said, "I'll lend you some money—with interest of course."

The Asian snarled and snatched back his bag as everyone laughed.

"I like honest living already," Sahid commented.

The other thieves cheered their agreement.

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Mozenrath stood in the neighborhood the Mukhtar had described to him in the secret library. The wizard had teleported them there; Mukhtar had donned in his long jade cloak with hood and cowl concealing his face to not alarm any of the commoners milling around them.

Mozenrath had his hood draped over his head, he wore matching navy gloves to hide his pale arm—and the other bandaged one. Thankfully, no one really paid them any mind; the immanency of war hovered thick in the dry air.

He stared at the area where Mukhtar could still smell very faint traces of his and Desdane's scents.

A Mukhtar's nostrils were formidable indeed. It was unfortunate commoners apparently didn't bathe often. He could smell the pungent 'bouquet' of their mingling odors; he wrinkled his nose and pitied the Mukhtar's predicament.

The other gave no signs of minding though; so he appraised the juncture before them.

It was a cross-street; mainly multi-level buildings which were apartments of some type or another; one in particular sat just in front of them; the same tan-stone-brick as most of Agrabah, four tiers high. Nestled beside it was a small courtyard; a well lie in its center, small clumps of flowers shooting up around it. A group of children were laughing as they played ball around the capped well; but a tall olive tree a short distance behind it was what kept tugging at his mind.

He had seen that tree; but when? Did he live in that tall structure; it seemed vaguely familiar. But, why did that area in the building's center pull at his gaze? The roundish section that was obviously made of newer brick; had the structure been damaged once, if so, what had made such a gaping hole?

Without realizing it, he drew nearer to the building; he didn't notice Mukhtar trail behind, silent as a shadow.

Something like a trance swept over him, vaguely he could hear the woman singing again—he was certain she was his mother, he could smell the fragrance of jasmine; a flicker of a boy's image flashed through his mind: a very small, dark haired boy with very large cinnamon-brown eyes. Why did they seem so familiar?

Were they his brother's? Was the small boy his brother?

Someone called out his name; distantly, it was carried away on a non-existant breeze, but he heard it…he couldn't make it out…except that it _wasn't_ 'Mozenrath.'

The voice called it again, he concentrated, struggling, striving to listen, to focus only on it; he craved, longed so much to uncover his real name; he pushed away all other sounds.

His vision blurred, he let it; he cared not where he was heading. Some tiny fragment of his mind whispered he was advancing towards the tree; he squelched all other awareness. He ached to know _who_ he was.

What was his name? He could taste the nearness of discovery; he violently shoved away all over thoughts. The distant voice grew closer. He could make out the syllable: "eed." Something-eed was his name. The olive tree loomed over him; he touched it with his flesh hand after pulling the glove off. The rough bark felt so familiar. Something compelled him to sit underneath it; vaguely he could feel weight in his hands, something smooth; as if he should be holding a book.

He suddenly smelled jasmine again.

"_Come back inside!" a voice cried from far, far away, "you'll burn again and I have no more salve!"_ He heard the concern in her voice, the worry…the love.

His mother; it was her voice. He glanced at his pale hand, dumbfounded that there was a time his pale skin had burned. He could still feel the book in his hands.

Laughing snapped him back to reality. Everything was gone; he swallowed hard, glancing around.

Beside him stood the Mukhtar.  
"You recalled something?" he asked evenly.

Mozenrath nodded.

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**A/N: **I'm soooo spoiling you guys; giving you five chapters in one day! LOL; I expect good reviews for this! :P Till next time!


	87. Chapter 87: Judgment & Mercy

**A/N: **Hey y'all. Thanks for all the lovely reviews! You guys are so awesomely generous! I totally am overblown by your support! We've got a ways to go yet; so, onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 87: Judgment & Mercy_

Sultan sent the 40 thieves, minus Cassim and Sahid, to some vacant chambers to rest. Cassim gave them all a warning look as they were ushered out to cause no trouble; the Asian grinned mock-mischievously, but Cassim read in their faces they would only eat and rest.

Even Saluk, thank goodness.

As the princess watched them depart, she turned to the sultan. "Father, has anything happened while we were gone?"

Cassim couldn't help but guess she was asking about a certain wizard.

As if on cue, the strange flying eel came gliding into the room…with the Oracle in its mouth!

"Xerxes!" his son exclaimed, "Where did you get that?"

"Sand witch," the eel said, after offering it to the sultan, who took it in his little hands, "sand witch say: 'give to sultan.' So Xerxes gives." He sniffed them all. "Xerxes smell Mukhtar; smell El' Khatib."

"Yes," Jasmine explained, "they joined our forces. Where's Mozenrath?"

Xerxes looked initially bemused by the two warriors allegedly allying with them, but them winced at the mention of his master.

"Xerxes not sure; master…left."

"Left!?" Aladdin and the princess shouted together.

A nod. "Xerxes smell master leave with Mukhtar."

"Oh, no," the princess breathed, turning to Aladdin, "he promised me though; you don't think…."

"Sand witch said will follow master; El' Khatib go with her."

There was a collective sigh of relief, though Cassim doubted it was for the same reasons.

"Very well, then," the sultan mused aloud, "what did Sadira say about this device?"

"Was she able to repair it?" the princess eagerly questioned.

Xerxes nodded, wearing a strangely proud smile. "She fix; sand witch very clever."

"Oh, thank goodness," the princess said with great relief.

Sultan smiled. "An Oracle; we can use this to defeat Desdane!"

"Sure!" the genie put in, "we can ask it what Desdane's weakness is!"

Xerxes shake head. "No can ask."

"What?" Cassim blurt out, "What do you mean?"

"Sand witch say Oracle needs time to rest; said can ask in two hours, let Oracle 'set' before then."

"Okay," Aladdin replied with resignation, "we can wait two hours."

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Mozenrath rose slowly, having to balance against the olive tree; the fragrance it gave off was soothing, fresh; somehow he found it revitalizing.

But he turned, ignoring the narrow-eyed look Mukhtar was giving him from behind that face wrap.

It had been the mouse; her laugh had rattled him out of his ruminations.

At the street's far end, she was standing near a fruit stall, nibbling on an apple and talking with a large figure concealed beneath a large brown robe and cloak. Its face was also wrapped in brown cloth; large boots concealed its feet as well as massive gloves over its hands.

The wizard's eyes narrowed; whatever it was, it wasn't human. The body proportions were all wrong. But, of course none of the commoners passing them on the street (most of them greeting Sadira cheerfully by first name), didn't notice.

Even from this distance, he caught the little worm, Jib come out of the sand by her feet and her squeal of delight at seeing him, and leaning down to scoop him up in her hands.

He walked towards her; she wasn't coincidentally out here, eating a snack and talking with a 'whatever-it-was.'

She was supervising—him.

He didn't need to be babysat.

As he drew closer, he overheard the mouse introduce her pet worm to 'Amal,' saying he'd come to lend aid in the war; he reached out with his magic and brushed this 'Amal's' presence—halting for a moment out of sheer surprise before forcing his feet onward.

Amal was an El' Khatib; a Shadow-walking minion of the Sorceress Mirage.

Mozenrath ground his teeth; such an obvious espionage tactic; and the mouse fell for it.

He came right up behind her; noticing how much she was enjoying her conversation with the enemy.

"Having fun?" he sharply snarked, and as he hoped, she started with a yelp, before spinning around to face him.

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"There's something else, Father," Jaz said knowingly, scrutinizing the sultan's face. "What have you been up to?"

The monarch 'harrumphed' coyly, but Aladdin caught the satisfied glint in his eye.

"Well, all of the alliances against Desdane have been formalized," he began, very even and stoic, and looked to Genie, "in fact, I was hoping, Genie you'd be so kind as to…er…'magic' their armies here; it'd save them a lot of time and strength marching from all over the deserts to reach Agrabah. And…I doubt we have that kind of time to waste anyways."

"Alllllll right!" Genie yelled, throwing himself around the chamber and lighting up the pillars he hit them, much like he did after Al had first freed him. Al didn't miss the sultan's and Jaz's grins of remembrance.

Genie bolted back before the sultan, with some sort of military uniform on. He saluted smartly. "It'll be done before you can say: supercalafragileistic…"—

"I am grateful, Genie," the sultan smoothly cut in, "and…there is one other development."

Ah; the glint came back. Aladdin was all ears.

"Well," the sultan dived in, and related to them how he'd been trying to placate the guests, with Mozenrath's sudden appearance and demonstrating his 'own brand of diplomacy,' followed by coming upon the wizard again in his throne room, continuing into their bizarre, but somehow bonding discussion. He only mentioned 'then bringing him to the library' to look for possible information (Al suspected there was more to that part), concluded with _Mozenrath,_ not the sultan, but the sorcerer, offering a _peace treaty_ of all things to Agrabah, should they survive—and Mozenrath reclaim his kingdom!

Silence dominated several seconds until:

"Yep," Iago deadpanned, "he thinks we're all gonna die for sure."

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The sand mouse riveted to him, just barely keeping her grip on the apple…which the worm was now gnawing away at.

"Well," the worm snarked, still chewing, "about time you finished up. Can we go now?"

Mozenrath wasn't expecting that. "Finished? What are you talking about?"

The mouse sighed. "I sensed you and Mukhtar come out here; I was done repairing the Oracle and gave it to Xerxes to give to the sultan. But, since you two are a little...conspicuous? I decided to tail you, just in case," she gestured to the El' Khatib, "and Amal volunteered to come with."

Mozenrath held back a snarl. He didn't want everyone and their El' Khatib nosing into his business.

"Well, all is under control," he said in a just-civil tone, "so you and your entourage can leave."

He turned to walk away.

And at the opposite end of the street, the large guard, Razoul and some of his men appeared.

Razoul instantly spotted him and drew out his sword.

Oh, by the sands! Was he never to have any peace from the burly oaf!?

The mouse caught where his gaze lie. "Uh, you were saying?"

"I can deal with him."  
She snatched his bone arm as he made for Razoul. "I know; and that's the point. You can, but you're not. We're going."

And she pulled him towards the palace. He dug his feet into the ground.

"I flee from no—"

"It's not 'fleeing,'" the mouse countered, "it's being sensible. War is coming; we don't need fighting amongst ourselves."

"That's not"—

"You think you're superior to Razoul, right?"

Mozenrath sputtered. "I don't merely 'think' it."

"Then as the better man, you're the one meant to walk away."

His shoulders dropped in angst. "I hate it when you do that," he snarled.

She had the impudence to grin. "But you'll still do it," she rightly concluded, pulling him in the direction of the palace.

He glowered death at the El' Khatib, who was not-discreetly-enough snickering at him.

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It was evident now to Cassim that persuading Aladdin to help him locate Farid and then the three of them fleeing Agrabah with his men was not an option.

He'd so longed to shelter his boys from war against a sadist sorcerer.

Apparently it was far too late to do so.

He fingered his sheathed blade; well, he'd simply have to protect them another way—

After tracking down Farid of course.

But, where was he now? He only half-listened as the sultan told his son Cassim could have the bedchamber beside his own, and to please show him to it. The sultan added he'd have servants bring supper for them and the already ensconced thieves as well.

The sultan said he'd find a tactful way to introduce Cassim and his men to the rest of the 'forces' tomorrow; too much had already happened today and sultan decided it was best for everyone to simply re-gather their strength for now.

Cassim silently agreed. Perhaps, while Agrabah was unaware of his presence, he could quietly slip out tonight and seek out his other son. He glanced at Aladdin, already wondering how to acquire his son's aid in the search.

He let his attention return to the princess as she asked her father whether or not he'd sign a treaty with Mozenrath. The sultan blatantly came out and declared he would; that he's seen a remarkable change in 'the boy,' in the time he'd been in the palace, and believes he has earned a chance to prove his trustworthiness.

Of course, the genie, animals and guards were all equally shameless about not hiding their doubts. The genie in particular shuddered and said something about 'well, we can only hope it sticks' turning himself into cooked noodles and throwing himself at a wall for effect.

Cassim rubbed his teeth together thoughtfully. He didn't truly remember crossing any wizards of true power; yes, a few of the less potent ones or outright charlatans had received 'divesting' visits from Cassim and his men. But a full-fledged sorcerer?

No; Cassim was out to make a profit, not commit suicide.

He made a point of bowing to the sultan as the princess gestured for them to come and take Cassim to the 'adjoining room.'

Thankfully, the princess had spoken true; her father was clearly a good man, and Cassim breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the monarch would show him mercy for his crimes.

He gratefully followed the princess and his son into a white marble corridor and to some very grand stairs.

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When Mozenrath with the sand mouse, worm, Mukhtar and El' Khatib returned to the palace, he parted from the group without a word and headed back to the secret library.

"Whoa, he's a piece of work," he heard the worm mutter to his mistress.

The mouse only murmured in reply, "He's going through a lot, don't pick on him," which caught him off guard; that, and the lack of judgmental tone in her voice, but he simply didn't want to be around them right now.

No; that wasn't true, he wanted to be around the sand witch, but not her old pet and new pet.

Something about seeing her laughing and enjoying her talk with the El' Khatib had made him see red. And as he already had more than enough to deal with, he just could stomach adding anymore.

So he headed back to his research in silence.

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When Sadira brought Jib, Mukhtar and Amal back to Aladdin's room, she was only partly surprised to see the King of Thieves there too.

The resemblance Aladdin shared to him was unmistakable; she looked at Al and threw out her hunch:

"Your father, I presume?"

Aladdin put an arm around his dad and grinned like he was a kid again; which Sadira imagined he was feeling just that at the moment.

"Yeah," he gestured to Sadira, "Dad this is Sadira, witch of the sand."

Cassim pursed his lips, but shook Sadira's hand without hesitation. "From what I've seen an been told, you're quite the sorceress."

Sadira only laughed. "Well, that remains to be seen; it's not a recent development, I can tell you that much."

Jaz only shook her head. "You have to stop selling yourself short, Sadira."

Sadira only chuckled, putting Jib on a table a plopping a pear from a nearby fruit bowl beside him. "Yeah, that's what our tempermental wizard keeps telling me."

"Uh, yeah, speaking of which," Iago asked, "where did the 'temperamental wizard' disappear off to?"

"The southwest part of the city," Sadira absently told them while whispering to Jib that he'd worked hard and deserved the fruit, "he was in a courtyard near some houses when I found him."

Aladdin's eyes narrowed. "What was he doing there?"

"I didn't ask him; I just was told by Xerxes that he'd left the palace and thought I should follow." She turned to them and sighed. "Razoul showed up a couple minutes after Amal and I had. He saw us and Mukhtar with Mozenrath, so left us alone. I don't want to know how he'd have reacted were we not though."

Jasmine turned to Mukhtar. "Why were you there with Mozenrath?"

"It was private business," was the raspy reply, "between myself and the wizard. But, it does not endanger your kingdom. He made a request, I decided to grant it."

Jasmine wasn't convinced though. "You didn't hurt him."

"I gave my word."

"And he didn't cause any trouble in the city?"

"No; he only took in the area. Nothing more."

"That's strange, even for Mozenrath," Aladdin quietly said.

"It is not your concern," Mukhtar flatly told him, "we have better thingsss to speak of; like Desssdane."

In response he was bombarded by throngs of shocked expressions.

"You…know of Desdane?" Jaz asked. "How?"

"I have fought him before."

Jasmine swallowed. "Please, tell us."

And after they all sat down, he did.

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**A/N: **Well, watcha all think? Plz leave a review!


	88. Chapter 88: Banished & Accepted

**A/N: **And here's more! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 88: Banished & Accepted _

After Mukhtar told them essentially the same tale he'd related to Mozenrath, he was pleased that his 'omissions' were not obvious to the humans or others in the chamber.

His vendetta against Desdane was his affair and no one else's.

Only Mozenrath need know because of their pack; he had aided the boy, and the boy pledged to allow him to take part in destroying the vile sorcerer as payment.

Only he and the wizard need be aware of it.

"I'm so sorry," the princess told him, her tone beautiful in its genuineness, "that that happened to your people. I wish there was something we could do."

He inhaled, blew out the breath. "You are kind; but it isss too late. Desssdane's magic is too potent to be reversed; even his death, I doubt, would make any differencccce. We knew that when infiltrating his Citadel; our efforts were for naught though; he retained the boy."

The thief father looked thoughtful. "But, you said before that Mozenrath was lost. Why try to save him then?"

"Becaussse _then_, it was not too late for him," was the blunt reply.

"Well, what difference does it make between then and now?" the boy Aladdin inquired, "He seems to have changed a lot since coming here."

"'Seemssss,'" Mukhtar repeated, "'seemsss' is not good enough. Desdane minglesss the bloodsss of his evil self with his apprenticesss. Mozenrath is tainted; doomed. We hoped to liberate him before the blood rite could take place. Even if hissss mind is healed, his blood is till poinsssoned by his master and there is only one way to liberate him."

"And how is that?" Aladdin asked.

"Death."

The princess swallowed hard. No one noticed the sand witch slip from the room except Mukhtar, and Amal. They shared a glance.

Aladdin blew out a breath. "Ok; we won't discuss that more, for now." Dark brown eyes met gold. "But I don't agree with you; there has to be a way to save him."

Mukhtar only shrugged. "Believe what you will; I cannot stop you."

Aladdin only pursed his lips at that, but his expression softened when he turned his attention to Amal.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you Amal."

The El' Khatib clapped his large, monstrous hand on Aladdin's shoulder. "And I you, old friend."

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At last, Mozenrath found it.

Staring him in the face from the pages of the large tome he had been scouring lay an engraving of the Chronicles of Queens…with a description of the magic required to open it.

Unfortunately, he left the mouse's translation books upstairs.

Curses. He rose to fetch them, until he glanced up to have the largest book hovering in his face.

Hovering: because Xerxes had it entwined in his tail.

"Master forget book," the eel timidly said.

Mozenrath took in Xerxes' fearful expression, silently grateful he bore no bruises or cuts.

_The sand mouse probably mended him_, he thought with shameful consternation.

He gestured for Xerxes to set the book down, and scooped him up in both arms, petting his head apologetically. Xerxes' tense body immediately relaxed and he nuzzled the wizard's arm, assured he'd been forgiven.

Except this wasn't about Mozenrath having to forgive Xerxes.

Aladdin's words came back at him: _it's hard for you to forgive, 'cause you've never done it._

And he still hadn't- which was probably for the best.

"I'm sorry Xerxes," he said suddenly, astonishing himself at how _easily_ the words came.

What proved difficult to take in was the disbelieving expression on the eel's face when he looked up at Mozenrath.

"Sorry? For what sorry?" Xerxes looked sincerely lost. He probably assumed 'sorry' about failure in a plan or some magical scheme.

Xerxes would think that way. Mozenrath sighed, rubbed his head with one hand, still cradling Xerxes in the other.

"I'm not unaware," he went on, and now the words came with forced effort, "that my temper is…volatile."

Xerxes actually recoiled in his hand; Mozenrath petted his brow to show he wasn't angry at present.

He hated it now- recalling how Xerxes also once recoiled in terror from Desdane.

Mukhtar had been right; Desdane had sought to make Mozenrath an 'extension' of himself.

The detestable part was he'd succeeded; at least on some levels.

On _many levels_, Mozenrath decided, repressing a hiss. Well; no more.

That would change: now.

And so he dragged out of himself words he knew Desdane would utter under no circumstances; even if his own miserable life were at stake.

He resolved to be everything Desdane was _not_ and never could be.

He locked eyes with Xerxes, and slowly iterated: "I'm sorry for _hurting you_"—

Xerxes' mouth dropped open; he tried to object, but Mozenrath covered his mouth.

"You were always loyal, always; and I rarely, if ever deserved it." He thought of the times Xerxes would try to intervene by biting Desdane while the older sorcerer was beating Mozenrath, when he'd try to sneak his master food when he was locked in the dungeons for months at a time; how he'd deliberately break something of Desdane's when he was angry at Mozenrath so the old wizard's anger would be more focused on Xerxes than the younger magician.

"I never deserved it," he repeated, thinking of how much more he'd have suffered at Xerxes not taken some of the blows himself. And Xerxes was under no obligation, magical or otherwise to have done that. His magical binding to Mozenrath was only to stay with him; nothing more.

Certainly nothing like the extreme lengths he'd gone to. And what had Mozenrath ever done to repay his loyalty.

He cringed as the deplorable pictures danced across his mind.

Nothing; just as Desdane would have.

How miserable blind he'd been, all of these years. Foolishly imitating the man he'd so despised.

It was pitiful; there was no excuse.

But, there was the pathway to change; he didn't turn away when it beckoned to him.

He returned his gaze to Xerxes, who was now letting himself relax in Mozenrath's hand and arm, even as the bewildered expression didn't leave his face.

"I will try to do better Xerxes; to control my temper."

The eel blinked in disbelief…but then he smiled hopefully.

"I will…try to deserve your loyalty."

Xerxes said nothing, but only rubbed his face affectionately against his master's arm.

His bone arm; Xerxes cared not that he was less than human.

The wizard had to shut his eyes and take steadying breaths when he felt his dark eyes fill.

Neither of them noticed the slender figure concealed in the shadows of the open secret door, silently watching everything.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading; hope you enjoyed! Plz leave a review! 


	89. Chapter 89: The Runes & the Seer

**A/N: **OMG! You all are SO awesome with your totally lovely reviews! They totally made my day. I threw my back out really bad and have been mainly in bed the entire weekend; I just tried getting groceries for the fam but only with partial success. Ugh; but reading your reviews just made everything all better for me; so thanks! Anyhow here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 89: The Runes & the Seer_

"How did you end up crossing paths with Mukhtar?" Aladdin asked his one hand on Amal's shoulder even as his free arm was wrapped around Jasmine, who sat on his right.

Amal waved a hand. "We met purely by chance. I had sensed a massive wave of dark magic a couple nights ago, while I was in a nearby kingdom. I'd never sensed its like, but shortly after, I felt another presence come into our world that I did recognize…Mirage."

"Mirage?" Jaz repeated softly.

Amal nodded the hood of his cloak drawn back so they could clearly see his part El' Khatib, part human face. "I felt her enter this world again…with _all_ of her other El' Khatib." He sighed in resignation. "I also sensed her fire cats, plus a few other creatures I did not recognize."

"She's merging her armies with Desdane's then," Al deduced, looking thoughtful.

Amal nodded. "Surely this is why. She and Lord Desdane have a history after all."

Jaz's eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Another nod. "No one really knows in full, some say it was purely business, some say romantic, some say it was partly both. My guess would be the last."

"Why?" Al inquired.

"Because a long time ago I heard a tale from a much older El' Khatib, one who was several thousand years old, that she had been betrothed to marry a seer of some kind. But, many of the older El' Khatib were bewildered by this because before that relationship, she's been involved they said with a dark sorcerer."

"Desdane?"

Amal shrugged. "They never gave me a name; but the tale goes that she left the dark sorcerer for the seer. But, after a while, the lure of evil pulled her away from the seer and they never married. He had drawn her back to the light for a time, but in the end, she returned to the dark. But, the sorcerer had vanished; and they never crossed paths again."

"Until now," Jaz added, "I would never have guessed it, especially not of Mirage; that she was once good? It's hard to believe."

"No harder than with the idea of Mozenrath changing," Iago put in.  
"So, did you ever find out the name of the seer?" Al questioned.

Amal shook his head. "Only that he was blinded…from battling the dark sorcerer."

Jaws fell all around. "Phasir?" Al said in disbelief. "He was once in love with Mirage?"

Jaz swallowed hard. "You know Aladdin; it does make a lot of sense, in hindsight. Why did they both appear in our lives at around the same time?"

Al nodded, a light going off in his eyes. "He must be still trying to win her back then, and we got pulled into it."

"And she must be still refusing to give up evil," Jaz mused, "maybe that's why she turned me into that creature?"

"Ugh," Iago put in with a shudder, "you two do attract some strange characters."

All eyes fastened onto him.

Al smirked. "More strange than a talking parrot obsessed with gold who hates crackers?"

"Hey! I resent that!"

Everyone laughed.

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Mozenrath was lost in his thoughts, still petting Xerxes' head, when a light knock came from the opened secret door.

Dark eyes widened as he riveted his attention to the sound.

It was the mouse.

"Hi," she greeted casually—too casually—"the sultan said you were in here. Find anything yet?"

He let Xerxes wind back into the air to hover over the table as the mouse approached. He gestured wordlessly to the open tome, her glittering eyes darting to it. She leaned over the book, planting her little hands on either side of it, and examined the page.

"This…is…fantastic!" she avowed, "And I have some runes to use for translation"—

"Xerxes brought one of the books"—

"Yes, and it'll have most of the references we need," the mouse absently said, "but not all. Xerxes," she asked looking up, "would you fetch my bag? The runes are inside."

Xerxes nodded and after she patted his head affectionately, he smiled and flew out the small window.

Mozenrath leveled a scorching glower at her. She looked too convincingly bemused for him to be convinced.

She had seen; he was certain of it.

"How long were you standing there?" he practically growled at her.

That cursed mouse didn't even try to look reproached; she indifferently yawned, grinned unrepentantly at him, and swaggered around the table to stand at his immediate left.

She leaned down at patted his face with a thoroughly naughty, yet somehow satisfied grin.

"Long enough to see that you're not the cold, heartless wizard you pretend to be," she all but purred with approval and non-chalantly straightened just before Xerxes glided back in, bag in his mouth.

The mouse took it, scratching Xerxes on the head and cheeks. "You were so fast," she praised.

"Xerxes take short cut; up window, hero's room two windows up, faster than halls."

"Ohhh," she said, scratching as Xerxes made happy sounds and turned his face from side to side, guiding her hand, "you're cute and smart."

Xerxes _giggled_; Mozenrath couldn't believe his ears! Xerxes had never made a sound like that before!

What a fine slap in the face it made; he flinched.

_Treat him like he deserves, or I will, _the mouse had warned.

He cleared his throat as the mouse lavished Xerxes with more attention and the eel eagerly ate it up. Both turned to him; but he made a point of keeping his disapproving expression pinned on the mouse.

"Worried about competition?" she innocently asked.

Between this and that interlude with the El' Khatib, Mozenrath's patience with the mouse had worn. "Could we please get back to work? You won't be able to steal Xerxes away if we're all dead, after all."

The mouse only folded her arms in a tolerant way, Xerxes looked chastised, but Mozenrath gestured for him to come and sit on his shoulder. He petted the eel's head to make certain he understood his annoyance was aimed at the mouse alone.

But, in her favor, the mouse wasted no time; she dug the runes out of her satchel and took the lead on translation, she even made a point of showing there were no hard feelings because she managed to perfectly integrate a rune lesson into her translation process.

Mozenrath sighed in resolve that of course she knew he wasn't as proficient in the language as her; he quietly said his thanks for the clarifications as they brought the Chronicles book to life.

The process regardless dragged into the night; they were sipping coffee Xerxes had fetched for them by the time the work was over.

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**A/N: **Here yas go! Enjoy! Plz review!


	90. Chapter 90: The Chronicler

**A/N: **Hey all; not much to say except thanks uber much for the lovely reviews on the last few chapters! We're making big headway and that's just awesome I'm kinda snowed right now on back meds, so I tried to answer everyone's questions, but if I missed you on something, just shoot me a PM and I'll get back to yas! OK? Cool; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 90: The Chronicler_

Mozenrath leaned over the table, his elbows propped on the marble top, balls of his hands pressing into his eyes.

At last, it made sense.

Finally, his years of wondering were over. The endless questions, the quests for revelation that led nowhere, the fruitless searches; at merciful last, there was some shred of closure.

It was a horrid, grotesque imitation of conclusion, but it was more than he'd ever had; which hardly consoled him.

He and the mouse had finished translating the magic needed to open the _Chronicles of Queens_; which the mouse had expertly done—blast her anyways. But after a glorious flash of golden light and the book had majestically opened for them, they'd dug into its contents with fervor.

The massive tome had been written by both the final Queen, as well as her head advisor, only known as the Chronicler. Apparently, when a Chronicler was chosen, that became her true name, her birth name was forfeit as part of her oath to uphold the sanctity and crucial nature of her position as the Queen's right hand.

Mozenrath and the mouse, along with Xerxes, had learnt the secret of what had truly happened in the final battle which closed the Imperial War with Desdane.

Mozenrath took in the mouse's silence; she was having difficulty coming to terms with it as well it seemed, he wondered why.

Perhaps because had it played out another way, she might have grown up with magical 'sisters' from the Old Order? She would not have been condemned to live in excruciating loneliness all that time?

Perhaps; he knew he couldn't be certain though.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured at length, her tone sorrowful.

Mozenrath shook his head; it was too late for anything now, far past it.

All he could do now was gather the strength to use this knowledge against Desdane.

He wanted to laugh; how adeptly Desdane had manipulated him all those accursed years, and he'd been too consumed by his rages to see through the scarlet walls they'd erected between him and the rest of the world—between him and the vile truth.

He'd been so blind…just as Desdane had designed.

How insidiously brilliant his old master was.

Had the old sorcerer known even now he'd discover the truth of why he had been chosen? Why out of the plethora of magic-latent children in the world, he'd selected Mozenrath? Was the crushing weight of this terrible realization part of Desdane's master plot to destroy his will to fight even before the war started?

Mozenrath couldn't dismiss the notion entirely; Desdane could spin webs within webs with ease, after all; no, all that mattered now was seeing past the manipulations, anger and the goriness of his past.

Desdane had to be stopped; now more than ever. Mozenrath forced himself to stand, even as his muscles screamed that he hadn't rested all day and they were not too tired and sore to even consider moving, and what had he been _thinking_ to push himself so?

_Because we lack the luxury of time_, he thought cynically. And if he wanted his body to work, then wretch it all, it would work.

He bit his inner cheek to keep from moaning as his aching form protested his movements.

"We must tell the others," he tonelessly said.

In his peripherals, the mouse soberly nodded. "I wish there was something I could do," she softly confessed.

"There will be no shortage when"—

"No," the mouse interrupted, barely raising her voice, and she made a point of catching his gaze; her sapphire eyes were graver than he'd ever seen them, "I mean I wish there was a way I could change this for you."

Mozenrath felt his insides twist; why did she have to always do that right when he'd thought he'd mastered this…whatever it was…that was growing inside of him for the mouse? He'd forced himself to be annoyed at her…subterfuge, and then her attention given to that El' Khatib, but now?

He'd already thrown away all of those feelings of frustration and angst, without even consciously being aware of it. And all she had to do was utter one little sentence.

He sighed; what did it matter now? What little shreds of his life that were still intact, still made some semblance of sense, were now ash, dust—courtesy of Desdane. The old sorcerer's influence was like a volcano: erupting, spewing death, mayhem, destruction, carnage in every direction of all around him. All he ever left in his deathly wake was debris, ash, smoke, ruin.

He tried to push away the thought that even if his life did resemble that now, perhaps, there was a tiny glimmer of hope; growth took root in volcanic ash after all—

No; he wouldn't delude himself with false hope.

He shook his head again, and his legs gave out; he sank back into the chair, vertigo grasping his senses. He hissed in pain.

It was too much; he was quite certain he'd reached his limit.

Instantly, the incomprehensible mouse was there, her warm, slender arms wrapped around him. One of her soft hands brushed his forehead, and he faintly heard her whisper something and a soothing force moved like gentle water through his thoughts, melting away the nauseous feelings gripping him.

"Thank you," he said his voice hollow.

He felt more than saw her nod. "I meant it you know; I wish my magic"—

He nodded, taking one of her arms. "I know," he managed to choke out—blasted infernal emotions!—"I know you do." His hand tightened on her arm, letting the feel of her anchor him in reality till he fully regained control. "Aside from you and Xerxes though…no one else ever cared about what happened to me." He sighed, accepting; it was best.

He and Xerxes were truly alone in the world; if they survived this war (which for him was doubtful, he wouldn't lie to himself over it), what would become of them?

A picture of languishing in a dungeon came to mind; no, that he wouldn't accept, past crimes or not.

He'd already endured more than his share of that in Desdane's nightmarish cells…where lurked more than the dark and musty air.

He shuddered, remembering what _else_ he'd encountered in the prisons, where he'd learned just how many forms darkness could take.

The mouse tightened her hold on him in return. Reflexively, he let himself lean into her before he realized what he was doing.

She was warm and safe; no danger of hurt or ridicule here, no need for the inner defenses that he wore like second skin. For a moment, he simply soaked in the comfort she offered, and when she ran her fingers slowly through his hair, he didn't recoil.

Her hands…felt nice; he wouldn't deny it.

"Do you want me to tell them?" she suddenly asked, her voice still low.

He shook his head, but in spite of the tiny voice inside yelling at him to break apart from her, he ignored it. "No," he replied his tone emotionless still; he didn't overlook that she was providing him with a way out, which gratitude surged through him at the thought, "it should be me. It was, after all…my…." He shook his head again, unable to finish.

He still couldn't believe it; intellectually, he'd accepted, he'd submitted to the obvious truth, but emotionally…no. He still needed time to let it all sink in.

The final submission made to the ancient tome was from the Chronicler herself. And what she had had to say…he needed time.

He forced himself to rethink what they'd just learned. During the final days of the war, dissention had wound its tentacles through the ranks of the Empire…but didn't stop there. They'd even pervaded Desdane's ranks…up to his apprentice, who was only known as Lady Talshieda.

Lady Talshieda, it seemed, was very like Mozenrath himself. She had been abducted by Desdane as a small girl, memory erased, and brainwashed into becoming his apprentice. However, unlike Mozenrath, she'd willingly served for several centuries. However, when Desdane came to the Land of the Black sand, already in possession of her, she'd seen his evil on levels far beyond what she'd known before.

Enough to turn her against him.

And so, in the dead of a still night, she had snuck away, using her own formidable magic to keep her from her master's sight. Desdane was so convinced of her loyalty and bondage to him…plus his…distraction of Mirage that he'd not noticed. She had ventured to the Queen and Chronicler, and made them an offer.

Her aid…in destroying Desdane.

And after hearing her tale, they had accepted.

And so, during the final battle, Lady Talshieda had called upon her gifts to sabotage Desdane's relics…but unknown to the Queen, had also invisibly gone through the Imperial Palace and done the same to theirs.

Both sides had been doomed; because Talshieda had targeted the extreme relics.

And during the final battle, when both sides called upon their relics, catastrophe had broken out. A blast more powerful than anything the world had ever seen erupted across the Seven Deserts, destroying the Empire, reducing the Land of the Black Sand to smoldering ruin and ostensibly killing everyone involved in the war.

Mozenrath swallowed hard. But, he knew there had been at least a couple of survivors; Mukhtar for one….

Desdane for another; he didn't know for sure if Mirage was present for the final battle or if she had returned to Morbia, but she lived yet, so it was likely.

The Chronicler had survived just long enough to document the end, in hopes of the Order arising again one day; she'd perished shortly after from her injuries.

But, there was also one other survivor: the Lady Talshieda herself.

He closed his eyes; longing to both will the truth away, but also to force himself to accept it as well.

"We should find the others," he said at length.

He felt the mouse nod against his hair; her brow was pressed into his curls. "Are you ready for this? We can't wait a little longer."

What little color that was in his face surely drained away. "We need to get this over with."

Another nod. "I'm so sorry."

The worst part was, she clearly meant it. He tried to not be overwhelmed in face of her compassion, her generosity.

"…_enough to see you're not the cold hearted wizard you pretend to be…."_

He wondered briefly what he truly was; what he was underneath all of Desdane's conditioning and cruelty.

It struck him hard that he really didn't know.

No later; if they survive there'll be time enough for that.

He tried to rise, but tottered on his feet; the mouse helped keep him steady.

He wouldn't have lasted this long, not without her, he was wizard enough to admit it. It was humbling to come to terms with, after being so long reliant on no one, not even really Xerxes.

It was strange, this sensation of humility, but not entirely unpleasant. Without thinking, he took one of her hands in his and pressed his lips to it.

Cold realization deluged him like a tidal wave in the next second. _What…had…he…?_

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**A/N: **Well, hope yas all like; yes, I know this is still kinda a cliff hanger, more to come of course! Plz leave a review!


	91. Chapter 91: More than Blood

**A/N: **Hey y'all; couldn't help but notice that I got fewer reviews for Ch. 90 than usual, I'm assuming it's because there was a LOT of mystery in that chapter; no worries none of you missed anything, that was deliberate. But, never fear! Answers are coming! So, here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 91: More than Blood_

The mouse proved merciful.

She pretended to not notice what he had done, only tightened her grip on him and teleported them both upstairs.

The street rat's chamber was mostly dark when they manifested within it; one lamp near Mozenrath's bed was lit, plus another on the opposite wall, other than that, the room was steeped in long shadows.

Once Mozenrath would have preferred it, but tonight, he wished it was still light; he didn't really understand why, but he missed the full, golden daylight that had warmed him near the olive tree.

The olive tree….

He sank onto the bed as memories assaulted him with new vigor. They came at him from all sides, but he had no energy left to fight them; so he just let bombard him in silence.

The mouse seemed to sense his turmoil and remained silent, even when Xerxes game gliding in from the balcony.

"Genie outside," he said by way of greeting, "him teleporting in armies from other kingdoms. Soldiers everywhere."

Mozenrath only nodded; he didn't notice the worried look the eel gave him, but felt Xerxes' weight settle onto one of his shoulders.

"What sand witch do?" Xerxes suddenly asked the mouse.

"Sand witch," the mouse replied lightly, though Mozenrath didn't look up from the floor, "is making your master another potion."

Mozenrath sighed. "I don't need"—

"Oh…yes…you…do," was the 'no-arguments' toned answer, "or was I not supposed to notice how hard you pushed yourself today?"

"We have _all_ been"—

The mouse surprised him by sighing and turning to him, only tapping her foot till he looked up at her. "Look," she said, clearly trying to not be unkind, "I know we've all been driving ourselves to the brink, but you _know_ what I'm going to say to that."

"_We weren't all tortured by Desdane; you were, and you need help to heal."_

Yes; he knew. He didn't like it at all, but he knew.

Xerxes apparently did too, because he rubbed his brow against the wizard's cheek reassuringly.

"Master will take potion," the eel said with confidence.

The mouse only smiled at him and Mozenrath looked away, fixing his attention on the door. Clanking glasses announced the mouse was at her business again; he caught a whiff of some exotic herbs as she worked.

"Where are the others, Xerxes?" he tonelessly inquired.

Xerxes perked up, perhaps glad to feel useful, or that his master was partially coming out of his stupor. "Heroes are downstairs, with sultan. Making 'final preps.'"

Mozenrath said nothing; but he felt another presence down there with 'the heroes.'

His worthless father.

Cassim was in the palace…and not in the dungeons.

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Sadira wasn't reassured by how grey Mozenrath's pallor had become. She prepared another healing potion, making an effort to not chew on her lip as anxiety welled up inside of her.

Her healing elixirs were working; but their effect was only temporary. That wasn't the norm; her healing skill was renowned of late. It was advanced, honed.

But not effective against whatever was inside of her temperamental wizard, fighting it. She held back in a sigh; it bothered her, the not knowing.

She kept an eye on him in the polished reflection of the marble walls and her ingredient bottles. He looked ready to fall over; Sadira reproached herself for not being more careful, she should never have allowed him to push himself with such obsessiveness, she should have ensured that he took more time to rest.

But, a little voice inside her asked: would he have listened? Would he have heeded you?

One glance at a resigning Xerxes said: no, he wouldn't have.

At least he spent most of the day by her, so she had been able to monitor him; but, as he sat behind her, elbows propped on his knees, hunched over from weariness, she could feel the nervousness creeping up inside of her.

Because, it wasn't just the fatigue weathering him now, it was what they had found in the old tome.

She couldn't withhold chewing her lip anymore; she could scarcely believe it, but it had all been right there. And when Mozenrath saw the engraving on the last page, she had been ready to catch him in case he fainted.

He hadn't, but it was more than obvious that the revelation had taken its toll. He was completely drained: emotionally and mentally.

Sadira had no doubts that he wouldn't sleep tonight…not without help anyways.

She slipped a few extra herbs into the draught that would ensure he dropped off at a slow, but irreversible pace; ergo harder for him to detect, wily as he was. He'd probably be enraged at her come morning nonetheless, but at least he'd be rested enough to be enraged.

She let her lips quirk in a tiny grin.

She didn't expect it when he broke the silence: "Why do you stay?" he abruptly asked her.

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Mozenrath couldn't bear the crushing silence anymore. Silence was an open platform to let him think…and right now, he didn't want to think.

"Why do you stay?" he questioned the mouse and blinked a second later, wondering why he'd asked.

No; he knew why, he realized at length. He asked because she didn't have to, but she did.

And he wanted to know the reason.

He turned to the mouse as she shifted on her feet; she hadn't anticipated this either.

Good, that was two of them then.

"What do you mean: why do I stay?" was the reply. She was hedging.

"I mean," the wizard replied, more firmly now, "why do you not leave? You have no family here, no blood ties. You could flee; you could at least try to save yourself. No one would be shocked by it."

"I would be," she bluntly returned.

Mozenrath sighed, looked away. Here it came, another debate about sentiment and doing what's right.

He rubbed his brow.

"You know," the sand witch began, as if musing aloud, "there's something about you I don't understand."

"Oh?" was the snarky answer, "Only one thing?"

The mouse wasn't baited—too bad—but only stirred her concoction thoughtfully. "I heard about you, you know, in my travels."

That got his attention. What? But he'd been so…discreet; desiring the element of surprise in his attacks.

The mouse glanced up at the ceiling, as if remembering. "The reviews I heard about you…they weren't exactly glowing."

Mozenrath snorted. "How astonishing," he drawled.

"Mmmmm," was all she said to that, "but, what strikes me most about you is that you always ask questions to which you already know the answer; almost like you're pretending you know less than you do."

The penetrating look he threw her must have been potent enough to impale a mountain, but she didn't budge. "Oh?" was the soft, half-threatening reply.

The mouse had the audacity to actually come and _sit next to him_, nearly close enough for their bodies to touch. And curse it anyways if he couldn't still feel the silk and callouses of her hand on his lips.

Stupid, brainless emotions.

"Yes," the mouse went on, totally non put-off by his reaction, and gestured to Xerxes. "You know why I stay: I do have a family. I have Jasmine, Aladdin, Genie; they're my family now. They're the only family I've ever known."

As perfect an opening as it was to unleash his sharp tongue, Mozenrath couldn't bring himself to do it; his tongue felt paralyzed. The mouse seemed to wait for a moment, probably able to read his face, and then went on.

"Family is more than blood," she continued, her tone not lecturing, only gently reminding, "you know that," and she petted Xerxes on the head, "Xerxes is your family. You've taken care of each other for most of your life, right? You told him to abandon you to save himself."

Xerxes somberly nodded, nuzzled his master's cheek. "But Xerxes will never leave master," the eel murmured solemnly.

Mozenrath reached up, after swallowing a knot in his throat and patted Xerxes' head.

The mouse rose, reached for a cup and poured her creation into it. "Those 'reviews' I heard," she evenly added, "they weren't complete you know; I can see that now. You hide your other self _very_ well."

Her tone was almost lamenting, which made his insides wrench.

"You seem so confident that there is an 'other side,'" was the tired, but flippant reply, as he took the cup she extended to him. He murmured his thanks and sipped it. "How are you so sure that you're right?"

She sat back down, this time their arms touched. Mozenrath was thankful it was his flesh arm; he could feel her warmth creep through his sleeve, even thick as the material was.

She only touched his brow, brushing stray curls from his eyes. He understood the implication from the look on her face.

His memories; she'd been inside his mind, repairing the insanity.

He looked away. "I'm sorry," he forced out quietly, "for…what you saw in there."

He saw her shadow on the floor shake her head. "Don't be; I'm not."

He didn't know what to say to that, but for some reason didn't jump when her hand enclosed around his.

"I was going to ask," the mouse continued after a moment, her free hand opening his palm even as it laid in her other, "about the blood ritual mentioned in the tome."

Mozenrath said nothing, only nodded. Xerxes had thankfully dozed off; it had been a long day for him too.

The wizard preferred he not be awake to hear this part.

The mouse sighed, as if reluctant to ask, and Mozenrath couldn't refute the warmth that filled him when intuition said she didn't want to burden him any further.

"He performed the ritual on me," he whispered, "if that's what you're going to ask."

"The forced bonding?" her tone was still tentative; he couldn't not smile at it, however small.

He nodded gravely. He wasn't about to tell her Desdane had attempted to beat and torture him into going along with it freely; she was already walking on glass with him, for some reason or another.

"What can undo it?"

Mozenrath let out a humorless chuckle. "Cut my head off."

The expression she threw at him was murderous. "That's not funny."

He shook his head. "It wasn't a joke; death is the way out—the only way."

The mouse had the gall to fold her arms. "You would never just accept that."

Ah; _her_ blasted intuition at work. "No," he admitted.

"So? What did you do to limit its effect? It involved inventing new kinds of magic I'm sure."

He couldn't not be impressed with her insight; nor be flattered at her appraisal of his skill.

"I did," he confessed, looking down when his cheeks warmed. "I tried over the years…a myriad of different things."

"And?"

He sighed, flexing the hand Desdane had cut. "Some seemed to work. Some…I'm not as certain. The effect was either too deep to trace or…I don't know." He glanced up at the door, almost wishing the street rat and his hero brigade would come bursting in and end the conversation. "Since he did force me into the bonding, it is…imperfect by nature. I did locate the fracture points and that's where I centered my experiments: exploiting those weak spots. I never threw it off entirely…but I did minimize it."

"To some unknown degree?"

A nod.

"I see," she mused, looking off into space, "what bindings are more powerful than the Bloodknife's?"

"None," Mozenrath deadpanned. "That's what makes the Bloodknife such an infamous relic…and why Desdane used it alone."

In his peripherals, he saw her nod. "I see."

"You know," she remarked, standing and moving back to the table to put her bottles away, "I was, after this is over, planning on taking a trip to some of the southern kingdoms."

Mozenrath was baffled enough by this drastic change in topic to shift his body to better face her; his jerking movement though woke up Xerxes, who yawned and stretched, but didn't move.

"Xerxes hungry."

Mozenrath only groaned and rubbed his brow. "When are you not?" he asked with mock annoyance.

The mouse only chuckled and with a wave of her hand, the long table Genie had conjured at breakfast returned…laden with enough food to feed a small army.

In other words, enough for a Xerxes-sized snack; the eel dived at it yelping in delight and landed head first in the large center fruit bowl.

Mozenrath only planted his face in both palms, the mouse laughed.

He turned back to her. "The southern kingdoms?" he prompted.

The mouse stifled her laughter, it was a pity; the wizard realized that her eyes sparkled when she laughed, he hadn't noticed it before.

The realization made him lightheaded. Ah, and it didn't help that she was standing with her back to the one lamp, and the deep golden light was glinting in her bushy mane, and bronzing her skin just right….

No; he had to stop this. He glanced at the floor, icy talons grabbing onto him.

If the mouse noticed his reaction, she didn't let on. He wondered how much she kept to herself in day to day life.

"Well," she murmured instead, "like I said, after this is…done; and everything is back to normal…or as close to it as we can get, the southern kingdoms are supposed to have some fascinating sights."

Mozenrath waited for the "and."

"And…I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

The lightheaded feeling returned with the force of an avalanche—one that landed on top of his head.

He riveted to her, mouth open—he clamped it shut a second later. "Wait…what? You'd want me to…come with you?"

All she did was nod…with a small smile. Blast her.

"But…why?"

She shrugged casually. "I like Xerxes."

She only laughed at the death glare he aimed at her, and then shrugged again.

She turned away and put the rest of her bottles in the tan satchel. "We get along pretty well," she clarified; her tone too even to be so and Mozenrath didn't miss how she fidgeted on her little feet while talking—nervous.

Had she not meant to make the offer then? But she had seemed so deliberate about it.

"Look," the wizard cut in, wanting to give her a way to retract, "you don't have to"—

She spun around. "Oh, I don't expect you to decide now." She gestured at Xerxes, who was hovering nearby while gnawing on a long loaf of dark bread. "Think about it; talk it over with Xerxes"—

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. "You only want me to do that because he'll say yes."

It was an easy assumption; Xerxes had been eagerly nodding the entire time they debated.

The mouse folded her arms and favored him with another rendition of 'the look.' He let himself snicker at her cute lips twisted in annoyance and angst.

She wore angst very well. He stifled a sudden burst of laughter quickly. She only twisted her mouth more to show that she'd caught it. "Well, like I said," she replied instead, "you keep sensible friends, at least."

Her tone was humorously dry; he snickered again. "I try."

The mouse made an attempt to wave non-chalantly, but she was still…unnerved about something. Then…why not retract?

"Well, at least think it over. It could be fun; we'll explore new places, adventure together, try new things. The sultan had some books about the southern kingdoms that were very interesting."

Ah; so the sultan was responsible for her wanderlust. The monarch's words came back to him though:

"…_a boy of your youth…should be traveling…trying new things…it grew Sadira…."_

Had the little monarch perceived similarities in them then? At this point, Mozenrath wouldn't doubt it; the ruler was more discerning than he'd initially realized.

"You could really bear to have me along?" Mozenrath flung out. He'd give her a final chance to withdraw…if that's what she really wanted. After all, that blasted El' Khatib—

The mouse rolled her eyes. "Well," she said, mock dramatically, eyes raised, "we do work together pretty well, you've gotten slightly less snobby since we first met…and I'll put up with your high-born sensibilities if you can bear to travel with a street mouse."

Mozenrath only chuckled. "Is there _anything else_?" he drawled with a gesture.

"Yes, you have to call me by name at least once a day; but…so we don't overwhelm you, I'll be satisfied with once a week for now."

The wizard buckled over laughing; the mouse and Xerxes close behind. He quickly regained himself. "My, but what extraordinary demands you make," he added extra bravado to his tone…for effect.

"I think a wizard of your caliber can manage; if not, just invent new magic to make it tolerable."

He snickered. "Cheeky mouse; no wonder you keep the hero brigade for company."

A shrug. "Well, I'd say they keep me out of trouble…but…."

The wizard raised his eyes and nodded in understanding…when he heard the voices of said heroes down the hall.

They were coming closer.

And his father was with them.

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**A/N: **OK, so my final projects are done! Yay! But, summer semester starts next week, so we'll see what that brings. Made this chapter a little longer, so can I plz get some long reviews!? LOL; enjoy and till next time!


	92. Chapter 92: Strange Places

**A/N: **Ok, so here's the next one. Thanks for reading Enjoy! Plz review.

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 92: Strange Places _

So, his treacherous father wasn't going to be thrown into the dungeons then; what a pity.

Or…was it?

After all, from what he could hear, they were opening up the chamber next door for the 'King' of thieves to slumber in.

So close, so beautifully, tantalizingly close….

"So…?"

The mouse broke his concentration.

As he collected himself, he couldn't repress the urge to swallow. He was still coming to grips with her…invitation.

He lifted his dark eyes to her. "Would you be…terribly upset, if I thought it over?" he tried to keep his voice as unruffled as possible. Xerxes finished the bread and returned to his shoulder.

The eel straightened importantly. "Xerxes persuade master," he promised the sand witch.

Sadira only giggled and patted his head. "You be a good boy and do that," she playfully returned. Her large, sapphire eyes met his again. Mozenrath tried to not notice how the brilliant gold and citrine light cast them into deep, dark pools; but not nefarious, rather…mysterious…intriguing—

All right; that was more than enough of _that_.

"Look at it this way," she offered, still in that same coy tone, "if you do come with, you'll have whole kingdoms full of new people to throw your snappy one-liners of yours at. Won't that be fun?"

Xerxes chuckled; Mozenrath impaled her with a look. "And you'll not say a word to stop me?" he innocently inquired, "Not even once?"

"Mmmmm, depends."

"On what?"

"We can talk that over later," she replied as the door opened.

Mozenrath's attention jerked to the group coming in.

His father wasn't with them.

So…he was already installed in the room next door then. The sharp taste of revenge so within reach filled the back of his throat. But, he watched as the sand mouse moved to greet the 'heroes' and his stomach tied in knots.

He was so torn. What should he do!? His revolting father was alone in the adjoining chamber. He could simply wait until everyone was asleep and quietly kill the man. It would be nothing to discreetly dispose of his body once the deed was done. Come the dawn, when he was missed, everyone would simply assume he'd reneged on his word to assist in the war and fled to save himself. After all, it took almost no imagination to unravel how Cassim had escaped a tranquil vacation in the lower dungeons.

A shame; Mozenrath recalled the alligator pit Amin Da'Moola was once caged in. He held in the smirk at picturing Cassim in Amin's place.

But, the mouse's voice once again shattered his thoughts. He peered up at her, his insides contorting into all the shapes they shouldn't be able to from this inner war being waged.

He had been infinitely relieved when it hit him that the El' Khatib hadn't won her over. He wanted to deny that it mattered to him…but that ship had long since sailed, he realized. He craved her good opinion, and her offer was dancing in front of his mind's eye more tempting than any relic he'd sought after, any conquest that had conjured itself in his thoughts. He bit the inside of his cheek as she conversed with the street rat and others, asking what they'd been about and listening to their replies. A meteor shower of diverse emotions were pummeling him as he came to the conclusion that if by some incomprehensible miracle they won, if they survived—if he survived—he did want to go with her.

He longed for that freedom, for that shining chance to build a new life; not one merely lusting after power, conquest and the plethora of other ambitions that had made him so detestably like Desdane, but…something else.

Something that was so very _not_ Desdane; but that could be his and his alone. He sighed; what was left of his soul had been so ravaged by their discoveries not so long ago, what little of his life and worldview that hadn't been obliterated, was simply too tired to think about this more tonight.

He quietly sighed in relief when he overheard the street rat and his sidekicks say their good-nights. He was suddenly getting drowsy. He let himself lay down on the far too comfortable bed and let the warm haze of sleep take him.

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Sadira ensured that her cagey patient was actually asleep before leaving the chamber with Al, Jaz and Genie.

Xerxes was asleep beside his master; Iago and Abu curled up on a couple of nearby chairs and while Abu offered to keep watch, Iago only said: "Great, you do that monkey," before practically falling over unconscious.

His snoring faded as they walked down the corridor.

As they re-entered the Treasury, Sadira noted the grave way Al gazed at the Oracle.

"So, it's still not working?" she asked.

Al shook his head.

Sadira sighed. "I was afraid of this. The magic resin I used to seal the crack usually does work after only two hours."

"But?" Jaz prompted.

"But," Sadira said with a gesture, "this Oracle; it's different."

"Different how?" the princess inquired.

"Different," Genie put in, poofing a very large book into his hands, "because Oracles were the very first magic relics ever created!" he showed them the open pages, showing many lavish, gorgeous looking Oracles, not only the Scepter, but a golden bowl, a ruby statue of a phoenix and so on, "these Oracles, according to legend, were not even made in our world. That being the case"—

"That being the case," Sadira cut in with a resigned tone, "there are no actual 'manuals' per se on how they work…or how to fix them. I did the best I could with what tidbits I knew." She gently took the Oracle from Aladdin, turning it over to show the now sealed crack. "It is mending," she appraised, waving a probing hand over it, "I can feel the Emerald sealing with the resin. It's just taking longer than I'd first guessed." She sighed again. "We will probably have to wait until morning; just based on the speed it's repairing itself."

Al nodded his face grim. "All right; I guess waiting till morning won't make that much difference."

Sadira noticed his disappointed grimace though. "Why? What were you going to ask it?"

Al gave her the short version of his family, how they'd vanished; finding his father just after he'd used the Oracle to locate him and his brother, Farid.

Sadira's eyes widened. "So, your brother, is here, now, in Agrabah?"

"That's what the Oracle said."

Sadira let out a steadying breath. "Do you have any idea where? Or what he looks like now."

Al only sadly shook his head. "I just know he's here," he placed the Oracle on its golden stand gravely, "and I have to wait to find out if he's ok."

Jaz put a hand on his shoulder. "Aladdin," she tenderly rebuked.

Something flitted across Al's brown eyes. "I'm…I'm sorry Sadira, I wasn't saying"—

Sadira lifted a hand. "Don't," she said, "I'd be frustrated too. Do you have any other clues?"

Al shrugged thoughtfully. "Mozenrath created a fire mirror and told it to show me my family; but…I remember seeing a man in blue…which was my father. But no, no one else." He looked away. "I can't help but wonder if Farid came back, looking for us."

Sadira nodded. "I'd volunteer to use my magic"—

"But you've been doing magic all day," Jaz interrupted, "no; we can wait till morning." She gave Sadira an appreciative look. "You really should get some rest, Sadira, you can sleep in my room if you want; I have more than enough room."

Plus she didn't trust Razoul, Sadira added to herself. "All right," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I gave Mozenrath a pretty powerful sleep draught. He should be out all night." She tried to not look worried as she teleported out.

As Sadira flopped onto one of the ridiculously large pillows strewn in a pile on one side of Jaz's opulent room, she conjured a final spell, just to be safe and then let herself drop into a deep sleep.

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Al hadn't budged from the Oracle display when Jaz returned her gaze to him after Sadira vanished.

"What else is bothering you?" she asked knowingly.

Al bit his lower lip. "Did you see how Mozenrath looked just now?"

Jaz nodded, suspecting this was it. "Yes."

"He's not getting better."

Jaz shook her head. "I know. It makes no sense though," she paced the Treasury, touching the various items, "Sadira has given him enough potions to heal an army; plus with all the doses of the Elixir of Life, he should be completely mended." She dropped her shoulders, baffled. "Could Desdane have done something to him?"

"You mean, like a fail safe?" Al somberly asked.

Jaz nodded, her face lined with concern. "I can barely believe we're having this conversation, what with Mozenrath's history, but knowing what we do now…." She trailed off.

All nodded, his lips pursed in a tight line. He touched the Oracle. "We can help him Jaz."

Jasmine nodded, taking in the Emerald-laden scepter. "After you ask about your brother, I can ask how we can heal Mozenrath."

"And your father can ask how to defeat Desdane."

Jasmine allowed the relief to fill her. "Thank heavens we have this then. What would be we do without it?"

Al looked away. "I'm glad we'll never know."

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When Aladdin returned to his chambers after walking Jaz to her room, he found his friends fast asleep. Genie had followed Sadira out, poofing off into his lamp, which was perched in one corner opposite the balcony. Abu and Iago were out.

Xerxes was curled up next to Mozenrath, who by his slow, shallow breathing, was in fact asleep.

Al quietly sat on his cot; he had on his vest and pants, they'd be fine to sleep in.

He leaned back on the thin pillow and let himself relax. He doubted he'd sleep, but he could just enjoy the quiet and the night breeze; plus he wanted to be extra careful in case Mozenrath did wake up—with his father next door, he was certain Mozenrath knew.

But his dad insisted that it was all right, that he wanted to be near Aladdin; so he gave in.

He took a steadying breath; everything would be fine.

He didn't even mind when Iago began counting gold coins in his sleep.

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Mozenrath didn't exactly know how long he'd slept, but the onyx gloom he'd been trekking in his dreams was too much to bear; he'd snapped awake.

He kept hearing a little boy calling out to him, that name he could almost hear but not quite.

Only this time, he'd heard himself calling back; another name he almost knew but didn't.

His brother, his intuition firmly assured him of that much: it was his brother he'd been calling.

Did that mean he was nearby? Mozenrath shifted ever so slightly; he'd been sleeping on his flesh arm, and now it was numbed. He grimaced.

Glancing up, he saw the street rat regarding him quietly. That was interesting, surely even vagrant thieves needed their rest.

"You're awake," he quipped.

The street rat, to his audacious credit, had the nerve to grin. "Should I say something now about your 'gift' for stating the obvious?" he murmured, clearly not desiring to wake the others.

"Please, don't."

"Why not?"

"Receiving any kind of praise from you, even in jest, would be too strange to bear."

Aladdin chuckled. "Yeah, I guess we've all had enough of 'strange' today."

Mozenrath gave him a doubtful look. "You mean you actually have a quota? I would have never guessed."

Aladdin only snickered. "Well, there was something you were right about today."

He only smiled at Mozenrath's thoroughly unimpressed face. "Please, I never have to be _told_ I'm right."

Al only rolled his eyes. "I did find a relative of mine today."

Al only twisted his lips at the realization flickering across those very dark eyes. "Among the 40 Thieves? A relative?"

Al nodded. "My father." He cocked his head to one side. "How did you guess?"

Mozenrath was propped up on one side; his free shoulder dropped. "As if it's such a great leap to assume the father of a thief is a thief as well." But, something grim shadowed his face for a moment. "So…your father is one of the 40 Thieves? My deepest sympathies." He then swallowed and looked away.

Aladdin frowned. Now, what was that all about? But, Mozenrath's skin still had that ashen tone to it, so he decided to not press the issue. There'd be time enough for questions in the morning. "Well, in any case, it'll keep till tomorrow. You should get some rest."

"Fine reproof coming from you; why aren't you asleep?"

Al, against his better volition, fidgeted. "It's been a long day," he hedged, not looking at the wizard who had already surely guessed what he was doing, "with the Thieves, finding my father, the Oracle," he made the mistake of chancing a glance at the other.

Mozenrath's deadpan expression of "I'm not buying it," made him sigh.

"And?" the wizard pointedly asked.

"And…." Al decided it was better to just be blunt; they'd probably need it in the coming days. "The palace isn't exactly what I'm used to."

Dark eyebrows raised. "'Not used to'? You've lived here now for nearly two years."

It was a question. "Yes," Al allowed, "but only for two years. The rest of my life…." He waved a hand toward the city.

"I see," the wizard replied tonelessly, "and so, is that why I found you that one day in your…charming abode?"

Al looked away, blushing against his will. Having a magical ruler appear in your shack of a house and say "nice hovel," was slightly embarrassing; not that he would ever tell Mozenrath that.

Besides, however grand and impressive, the Citadel never failed to creep him out; and now with Desdane back, it was surely even spookier than ever. He shuddered; he could scarcely wait.

But, he pushed away those thoughts and merely shrugged at the other's question. "Yeah, I have to sleep there still sometimes; I guess I don't adjust quickly."

"I guess not," was the emotionless reply. For a moment the wizard seemed thoughtful. "I suppose someone like you, always evading the law and every fruit stand owner who'd recognize you, had to find refuge in many strange places over the years."

A dry chuckle was his answer. "Yeah, me and Abu had to be pretty creative a few times."

He didn't know why the wizard seemed so intrigued by that. "Where is the strangest place you've ever slept then? In light of that?"

Al rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully and then surprised Mozenrath by waving around him.

"The strangest place," he said with a wide grin and tried to not be too pleased by the wizard's flabbergasted expression.

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Mozenrath tried to not be ill at what the street rat was implying.

A palace, an infernal palace was so strange an abode for a street rat, that even after two years of residence, it was not familiar enough to be comfortable for sleep.

He thought of his brother; he was out there, somewhere. Was he sleeping in some wretched place, even now? Had he eaten today? Or at all this week? Mozenrath swallowed at the realization that he couldn't be sure. His magic was warded against finding any of his relations—another 'gift' from Desdane.

He repressed a sigh; the street rat, so generous with 'truth,' didn't realize just how nauseating that truth could be.

His brother; he could almost see him, almost hear him. He recalled a happy, lively voice, and very bright caramel brown eyes. But, all else were blurred images and sounds.

"Why do you ask?" the street rat suddenly asked.

Mozenrath only half listening slowly sat up, careful to not wake Xerxes, and shrugged. "Curiosity I suppose," he answered, trying to sound indifferent, "the life of a street rat is so different from anything I've ever known." Picturing his brother struggling out there made his throat close. It'd had never occurred to him until this moment just how difficult, how dangerous the street rat's life had been—and perhaps for his brother, still was.

"What is the mortality rate, for people like you?" he couldn't keep from asking.

He met the other's eyes, who were filled with a mix of confusion and worry. "Why would you want to know that?" he asked carefully.

"Just humor me, street rat, this once; people like you, what are their chances of survival?"

The other squirmed. "For how long?" he asked instead, clearly biding time.

"for," Mozenrath thought quickly, his brother would be around the street rat's age. "Your age, from perhaps, three years old until now; what are the odds of survival?"

Aladdin swallowed. "Are you certain you want to know?" he chanced instead.

Mozenrath leveled him a nightmarish look.

The other actually jumped, but re-gathered himself quickly. "Uh," he said with a sigh, "not good."

"Not good, meaning?"

"Meaning…" and it was apparent that the street rat was not enjoying the conversation now—too bad—"meaning, most of us don't make it this long. Or, if we do, it's, well, not pretty."

Mozenrath felt the room close in. "But, your sultan is kind."

The other nodded. "But 'our sultan' doesn't patrol the streets."

Mozenrath winced. True enough.

Al sighed. "Look things are better now. For a long time, the sultan didn't even realize that there were poor people in Agrabah; once he found out, he's made a lot of changes, changes for a far-reaching better. So…," he shrugged, "whatever your reason for asking, I hope that's some consolation."

Mozenrath looked down at his hands; he'd been wringing them without realizing. "It is," he confessed quietly.

He was grateful that the street rat said nothing as he wordlessly laid back down. He hated it; he hated all of the 'not knowing's' he hated the fact that he apparently had so much in common with the street rat.

Their fathers were both in the 40 Thieves; Aladdin was a street rat, as was his brother, and they both had the misery of meeting their fathers today.

He swallowed the gall that rose up in his throat. His only consolation was that it seemed at long last, Aladdin's charmed life had come to an end.

Charmed life.

And then, with the force of a hurricane, a thousand stampedes and the world tearing in half, it hit him: why, why, WHY, the street rat's life had been such a rich, golden streak of unbelievable luck.

He'd read about the very same thing in the tome today; it all made such perfect sense.

He wanted to leap to his feet; the realization filled him with the fiery angst of a million infernos; he wanted to grab Aladdin by that tattered pitiful vest of his and scream at him until he lost his voice that he could prove, prove, PROVE at long, agonizing last, that it was never the infernal street rat's skill or ability that had thwarted his plans.

No; Mozenrath clamped his mouth shut tight enough to hurt; squeezed his eyes closed as well. He had to bury this in the deepest recesses of his mind…far, far down where Desdane would never unveil it.

The 'secret' to the street rat's rampant success could be the golden key to unlocking their victory.

He held in the shudder of glee; as much as he longed to smear the street rat's virtuous face in the less than glittering truth; it could wait.

After they'd won, then he'd ruin the poor hero's delicate ego.

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**A/N: **Enjoy; plz review!


	93. Chapter 93: The Night Rekindling

**A/N: **Thanks so much everyone for your lovely reviews and continued support; no questions have been asked at this point that won't be addressed in the coming chapters, but as things are starting to roll in earnest, let's keep going! Onward

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 93: The Night Rekindling _

A few hours later, Aladdin finally succumbed to sleep; across the niche in his bedchamber, he'd been listening to the wizard's slow breathing for some time, and finally reassured himself Mozenrath was in fact asleep.

Alien elegances or no, Al felt his eyelids droop, the warm, fragrant night worked its undeniable magic on him….

He was softly snoring a few moments afterwards…listening to night insects hum.

A gentle breeze nudged the lattice balcony doors open, waving the sheer curtains rhythmically as it whispered in hushed tones.

The two lamps whiffed out; only the pale full moon pooled ethereal light into the chamber. From a bright spot of silvery light near the room's center, a shadow seemed to emerge, tall, lithe, transparent…with scarlet eyes.

It moved, it's from wavering against the light wind, towards Mozenrath, its outline wearing the impressions of a hood and long cloak.

A hand extended, towards Aladdin, long fingers over a draping outline of a sleeve, and gestured.

The air seemed to bend and 'fall' over Aladdin, gliding around the chamber doing likewise to everyone else oblivious in sleep-

Including Xerxes.

The silhouette straightened, and a very soft, menacing voice murmured: "And now, faithless apprentice, your reprieve is over. You will wake, but you will sleep still."

The hand waved over Mozenrath, and many small, ghoulish looking creatures, onyx-colored and spectral like the silhouette, bloomed from its hand, and flew over the younger wizard, dissolving with hisses as they fell over him, seeming to sink into him somehow.

With a grand gesture, the figure vanished.

And the doors reclosed.

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Mozenrath was plunged into a horrible, dark land.

He ran, gasping for air, and wondering why his voice sounded…different.

He sounded so much younger; until he fell over a jagged rock in his path and fell into a pool. Coughing and straightening, he gazed down at his muddy reflection.

He was five again; or the age he guessed he was when Desdane came for him.

No; no time for that now, he had to run.

Hoof-beats were pounding behind him; he was being pursued. He dragged himself up with a moan, ignoring his cut legs and ran.

He didn't know how long he fled, or where he was going. He could only see bushes with thorns and brambles twisted all around him, over him blotting out the eerie rusty-brown light; the dirty road his own bare feet raced across was the only pathway he could see that cut through the savage, hostile place he found himself in.

He only knew he had finally escaped Desdane; he had discovered a spell capable of his liberating. He vaguely remembered Xerxes escaping with him, but he had glanced over his shoulder and the eel had vanished.

Where had he gone? Mozenrath gulped air and dearly hoped the little eel wasn't trying to lead his pursuers away.

The hoof-beats grew louder, thunderous, echoing all around him. And then they came.

The Riders.

They burst out from all around him, tearing through the barbs and thorns like sheets of dust; debris flew everywhere and Mozenrath yelled in surprise, freezing mid-step reflexively.

The horses, all obsidian black whinnied unearthly wails, almost banshee-like, their bright scarlet eyes boring straight through him as they reared back, waving massive, rotting hooves over his head.

Mozenrath covered his ears, shaking with fear and the icy wind, but chanced a glance up as one of the hooded, cloaked riders broke the circle to come right up to him.

The Rider threw his hood back, his face etched in rage.

Mozenrath's breath caught.

It was Cassim.

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"F…father?" Mozenrath couldn't believe his eyes. "It was you? I…I thought"—

"That it was Desdane?" Cassim roughly interjected, his tone making Mozenrath jump. "No; he had enough to attend to with that disaster _you_ left at his Citadel. I came after you instead."

Mozenrath knew he couldn't have heard that right. No; his father and Desdane had never met. He was mistaken. "No," he objected, shaking his head, "that…that can't"—

Before he could even react, his father flung out a whip, which made a loud, cracking sound as it flipped back like a cobra and lunged at the boy.

It wrapped around his throat. Mozenrath tried to scream, tried to call for help, but couldn't.

"Don't talk back to me boy," Cassim snarled, "you've caused us both more than enough trouble; and here I thought I'd been rid of you when I let Desdane take you away."

Even strangling himself against the whip to break free, Mozenrath yelped from surprise. No! No, that couldn't be true! This was all wrong! It had to be!

Cassim sighed tolerantly. "But no, even from afar, even as I try to build enough wealth for me and my other boy; you must interfere. My only consolation is that your brother no longer remembers you. And with Bashirah dead, it's only me and my boy now." He gave a hard yank on the whip, enough that Mozenrath lost his footing and was pitched forward, landing harshly on his knees.

"Master!" Cassim called out.

The merciless cold announced his presence: Desdane.

He came from the shadowy brambles like a toxic breeze, manifesting beside Cassim's horse, albeit on foot, and before Mozenrath.

"My apologies, my lord," Cassim solemnly began, "for all the trouble he's given you. I thought he'd be more manageable."

Mozenrath felt his eyes fill. _I am not hearing this_, he desperately thought, _this cannot be real!_

"Oh," Desdane gracefully said, "it's hardly your fault, Cassim; sadly, your wife was a liar and deceiver as well. And, while your _worthy_ son takes after you…well, the brat takes after her."

Mozenrath swallowed back the sobs. He made the mistake of meeting Cassim's eyes as the man pulled out a satchel. It was moving.

"We caught this too; it tried to lure us away from him, but failed."

No; Xerxes. Mozenrath could hear him, struggling inside the leather bag.

Desdane only waved a dismissive hand at it. "The eel does not concern me; I never should have let him keep the thing. Do whatever you like with it."

Mozenrath shuddered at his father's gleeful smirk. "As you wish, sir." He clutched the bag and opened it; yanking Xerxes out hard by the neck.

"M…master!" the eel yelped to Mozenrath.

When Cassim turned from Desdane to the boy, the younger wizard had a terrible foreboding; his father's face looked….

He held up Xerxes…and snapped his neck, carelessly dropping his limp body into the mud.

"Nooooo!" Mozenrath screamed, somehow tearing free of the whip. He threw himself at Xerxes, scooping his body out of the mud even as it began to rain on them.

"Xerxes," he whispered, his hot tears mixing with the frigid rain, he rubbed his head, but the eels' dull eyes only stared back at him, unblinking.

Desdane hauled him to his feet, backhanded him as Mozenrath began to weep.

"Now, brat," he hissed, "the next time you're tempted to escape, take some advice from your father," and he forced Mozenrath to turn and face Cassim.

"You were always the disappointment," Cassim practically spat at him, tugging the reins to keep his horse in place, "why do you think I gave you away? Look at you; you grew up having everything handed to you, every advantage, and yet, all you do is fail. Your brother though, has nothing-and look at him; he's a hero, a glowing success, and example to _everyone _around him. It only proves that I was right to sell you to Desdane"—

Mozenrath's jaw dropped. He…_what!?_

"The sorcerer gave me fabulous relics to use in my quests," Cassim boasted, "how do you think I became King of Thieves? With the men and magic at my disposal, I'll be the wealthiest man in the world before long; and when I return to Agrabah for my boy, we'll both live like kings."

His dazzling smile was thick with greed and ambition. "And you won't hold us back."

Mozenrath went numb. The truth of his father's words settled on him like a tomb, emotionally, he felt himself die all over again; the flicker of hope that he'd escape and track down his family was squashed. All he could feel was Xerxes' lifeless, chilled body in his bare hands.

His bare hands.

The fire rekindled in him; his breathing became ragged, he felt the heat of rage burning anew in him, fed by shock and betrayal.

But this time, he didn't attempt to hold the fury back; it warmed him, filled him with new focus, new purpose.

"I'll kill you," he hissed, his mouth practically frothing with un-pent, raw anger, "I'll kill you with my bare hands"—

And with a murderous wail, he launched himself at Cassim.

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Mozenrath bolted upright in bed, panting hard at the chilled, dry air.

A dream; he forced himself to look around him, taking in the slumbering street rat and his pathetic do-gooder band.

The rage was still fresh in his mind though, and had taken root in his shattered heart.

His father; Cassim was sleeping peacefully in the next room.

While his mother 'rested' in her cold grave.

He had unfinished business with his 'father.'

Silently, he slid off the bed and mumbled a spell that would keep everyone abed, undisturbed.

If his father wanted to rest in peace, Mozenrath was more than willing to be of help.

The door made no noise as he made his exit.

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As Mozenrath stood over the man whom he once called 'father,' he noted how Cassim looked exactly the same as he had in the nightmare.

He briefly wondered; had his father sold him to Desdane? Had his father known the truth? Had he chosen his brother instead? Those thoughts had never occurred to him before…but they seemed so very plausible now.

He took a breath, practically tasting the snake oil of his father's back-stabbing in the air. He silently hissed, raising his bone hand and conjuring a long, jagged dagger.

He had so much to repay this…abomination before him for. The pain, the suffering, the abandonment; he could feel all of the wounds, reopened, seeping old agony, filling his thoughts with faint echoes of all the times he'd screamed in the unending bygone nights.

Over; now, at last, his pain would end.

He'd have freedom; sweet, liberating freedom.

At last.

He swung the dagger down, over his father's exposed throat.

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**A/N: **Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Cliffhanger! Well; review and I might upload faster! Till next time!


	94. Chapter 94: The Beckoning Hand

**A/N: **Here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 94: The Beckoning Hand _

The dagger froze in place just over his father's neck, where his white night shirt opened to reveal his clavicle and Adam's apple.

He hissed again, audibly this time and looked up; across the room.

Out of the pools of darkness emerged the sand witch.

"Get out," he whispered fiercely.

She only drew near, stopping across the bed from him, Cassim slumbering beneath a silk blue blanket, oblivious to his peril.

She extended a hand. "Come with me," she coaxed.

He recoiled as if struck. The worst part was, some small part of him desired it. He crushed the feeling mercilessly. "No," he ground out, "it's my right to blood—his. He has a debt he owes me." He felt his eyes fill again, but didn't care anymore.

He didn't care about anything anymore. He just wanted to silence the gaping chasms and canyons of pain under his flesh that howled for relief—for revenge—to silence their cries.

"He owes me," the wizard bit out quietly, quite certain his expression must look deranged by now but not caring either, "and…he owes my mother."

The mouse looked caught off guard by that. She raised both hands, trying to placate him. "I don't know what a thief could do to you"—

Mozenrath choked out a laugh, thinking of the street rat—

"But," she firmly, but softly went on, "will killing him help? Will it ease the pain? You're not some common killer you know; you're a magician, you're like me."

A hollow feeling swelled inside of him, devouring most of his anger. "No," he murmured, pulling the knife to his body, "I'm nothing like you." His tone betrayed the emptiness lurking within the rest of him.

The mouse reached for him again. "You're wrong," she pressed carefully, as if afraid of bruising him with her words, "I believe you're better than that."

Mozenrath didn't like how exposed, how vulnerable her words left him. He shuddered and withdrew more; but she only moved closer to the foot of the bed and half-tried reaching for him again. "Please, give me the knife, you're not heartless"—

The humorless chuckle again.

-"you know Xerxes wouldn't want this…please," she gestured mildly, acting as though she feared his own self shattering, "let's go now."

Mozenrath wanted to look away, wanted to tear his gaze from her pleading eyes that were so full of _understanding_, back to his—

No; that man wasn't his father, he wasn't even a man.

He was nothing; Mozenrath's fingers slackened a fraction on the knife.

The mouse saw, and he was rewarded with her relieved and hopeful smile; it was enough that his tensed body, taut like a wire, relaxed.

No, he had to get past this now—

"Come on," she entreated again, and when her little hand reached for him, he felt his flesh hand move to meet hers as if of its own accord….

At least, until Aladdin and his hero troupe burst into the chamber and his father jolted upright in bed.

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Mozenrath couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction as his 'father' hastily took in the room with widened eyes, whipping a dagger out from under his pillow in an instant—but freezing when he saw Mozenrath.

Fortunately, Mozenrath had pulled his hood over his head before entering Cassim's chamber, and as he was standing to Cassim's left, with his back to the moonlit window, he was but a featureless shadow to his father.

_No; no recognition for you,_ the wizard thought, _you'd never know me again anyways_.

But, of course the street rat had the gall to brandish a saber at him.

"Mozenrath, drop that dagger and step away," he ordered harshly. Genie poofed out two formidable looking weapons of some sort, that vaguely reminded the wizard of cannons, but with bandolier's of many 'cannon-balls' beneath them. He'd never seen Gatling guns before.  
"Yeah, family only in this room, bub," he added with his usual bravado.

The princess sighed; waved at the mouse. "I'm sorry Sadira, I tried to explain to them," she said remorsefully.

"There was nothing to explain Jasmine," Aladdin sharply countered, "Mozenrath tried to kill my father once today; he won't get another try."

Mozenrath only sighed in exasperation. "You brainless street-rat," he drawled, "do you really think I'd waste my precious time on wanting to kill your"—and then what Aladdin _had actually_ _said_ struck him ferociously, in the face.

He forgot for a long moment how to breathe, which part of the room was up…he completely shut down.

The shock was, this time, more than his mind, soul and body could bear.

"Y…your," he frantically grasped at his typhoon of out-of-control thoughts.

"He's…my…father," Aladdin firmly iterated, "we found out today. I told you that already," he lowered his blade ever so slightly, and something like concern crossed his face, "You…you do remember my telling you that, right?"

Something clanged as it hit the marble floor; it vaguely registered in Mozenrath's mind that it was the dagger he had dropped when his fingers went slack.

He must have looked in quite a state; no one in the room was moving, or even daring to breathe loudly.

Numbly, barely able to make himself accept what was happening, was _in fact happening_, he forced his gaze to fall on Cassim, and then on Aladdin.

It was true; he…he had been so blind. They looked exactly alike: the dark, wavy hair, the eyes, the nose and mouth, even the shapes of their faces…they were father and son.

Mozenrath gulped, his head spinning, and pressed his hands to his face.

No, no, no, no; no, this could not be, it could not be real, it could not be….

He felt soft, calloused hands take his.

"C'mon," the mouse very gently said, "we're going." He felt the hands tug him towards the door.

He didn't dare look at anyone as the mouse ushered him out; he couldn't stand it—

Couldn't stand it, couldn't stand it…couldn't—

"Master!"

The dream overwhelmed him for a moment, catapulting him into the dark abyss of belief that Xerxes had been dead.

Cold hands fell from his face just in time to see the eel frantically swoop up to him.

"Master! Where go?! Must rest!"

"It's okay Xerxes," the mouse quickly soothed, "we just had…something to take care of; now we're going back to the room."

Mozenrath didn't miss how she omitted calling it "Aladdin's room."

Behind him, Cassim's door was still open. He pretended to not hear the conversation inside.

But, his ears were too good for his own good, it seemed.

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"Ummm," Iago began after Sadira had quickly exited with the wizard, "what was that all about!?"

Everyone looked to Cassim.

"Dad?" Al asked.

Cassim flung his feet out of the ornate bed, planting them on the cold floor. "I didn't get a good look at him this time either." He seemed thoughtful. "I think he's hiding his face from me on purpose. In the treasury I could assume he was going for stealth, in broad daylight, but at night? No. And with the moon to his back; that was all premeditated."

Jasmine sighed. "There must be some reason though."

Genie tapped his chin with his fingers. "Well, maybe I could just conjure in image of the Wiz-kid, Al. That way your dad could get a good look at him…uh, knife free, and"—

"Oh, please," Iago cut in, sitting on Genie's shoulder, "like we need to do all of that." He threw up his wings in exasperation. "We know why he's doing these things: he's insane! We've all known it for years; but no, he gets a little beat on by his old master and suddenly we're all feeling sorry for him like he's this poor, helpless victim. He's not! He's an evil wizard! What part of that are you people _not getting anymore_!?"

"Oye," was all he could grumble to the armada of scathing looks aimed at him in response.

"Oh, why do I even bother?" he groaned.

Aladdin sheathed his blade. "I don't buy it," he rebuked to no one in particular, "it can't be insanity." He thought back to his previous conversation with Mozenrath. They were missing too many pieces of the larger picture; he knew it in his gut, just as he could instinctively feel when danger was nearby. "Mozenrath seemed fine tonight; what could have set him off?"

Genie sidled up beside Aladdin. "Al," he cautiously chanced, "I hate to remind you of this, but Wiz-Kid was magically tortured by Desdane, remember?"

Cassim's jaw dropped. "Torture? But why?"

"For defiance," Al practically spat out, recalling all too well how easy it had been to carry Mozenrath without his blood, his body torn and mangled almost beyond comprehension.

Cassim looked ill. "But, you said he's only a boy; just a couple years older than you."

Jasmine's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Desdane doesn't care about age; only obedience. And Mozenrath tried to escape from him—many times."

"Exactly," Genie put in, still clearly trying to be tactful, "Al; face it, Wiz-kid's magic was almost completely drained, and you saw what near-total magic drainage did to Wonder-worm. Mozenrath can't be too far from the precipice; I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

Al sighed; hearing the genuine regret in his friend's voice. "I'm not ready to accept that yet."

Iago moaned. "You never will be, especially since you're also ignoring the fact that Desdane _did_ drive Mozenrath out of his mind once before—or are we just forgetting as a group here what happened to Sadira when she went inside his head?" And mimicking the sand witch, he started as if in shock, and then pretended to fall off Genie's shoulder. He caught himself mid-air though and returned to the his 'perch.'

Cassim rose, walking over his son, and placed a worried hand on his shoulder.

"Son, is this true? He was already insane once?"

Al grimly nodded.

"But, you're all letting him roam the palace free? That can't be wise."

"Oh," Iago cut in, "believe me; it's not _my_ choice."

Al took his dad's extended arm. "Dad; believe me, Sadira did heal him. He must think he has a legitimate reason for hating you. We just need to find out what it is."

Iago sighed again. "Ugh; fine." Everyone looked at him and he mock dusted his wings. "Well, if we're gonna do the: 'trust the villain thing' still, we can't exactly ask him why he's got it in for your father…but we know someone who can."

Blank stares all around.

"Ugh, I should have stayed in the lamp with Jafar," he mumbled, and gestured impatiently, "someone valuable, who should be mended by now?"

This time, he saw the lights go off.

"Finally," he grumbled.

"Iago, you're a genius," Jasmine said patting his head, "let's go to the Treasury."

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**A/N: **Well, pieces are coming together! Plz enjoy and review!


	95. Chapter 95: Pitch Black

**A/N: **Things are happening! Hope you're all enjoying! Thanks for the fabulous reviews Onward! Psst; we're at over 17,000 readers! OMG! Sorry about the wait; I was busy this week getting ready for grad school and I got food poisoning yesterday, it's always something!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 95: Pitch Black _

Mozenrath broke from Sadira in the corridor after he overheard Iago's tirade, and burst into Aladdin's room, making for the balcony doors. Sadira quietly hurried in behind him, Xerxes at her shoulder. She didn't know what to expect from him next: he could storm out onto the balcony and summon a firestorm capable of leveling Agrabah; or thrown himself from the structure to the marble stones below.

Sadira thought both equally likely; she bit her lip watching, her magic at the ready. Xerxes soundlessly curled up on his master's bed, watching.

But the wizard did neither; instead, he paced madly before the open doors, wringing his hands while clenching and unclenching his fists.

Sadira watched in silence, measuring the situation. Something had happened to trigger this; she took in his wildly flashing, unfocused eyes, and the incomprehensible things he was muttering under his breath. He was worked up tauter than a cord; but over what?

Whatever had taken place between the wizard and Al's father, it was something catastrophic—at least from Mozenrath's viewpoint.

He continued, pacing frantically, his robe snapping as he turned back and forth, his hands now digging into his arms, Sadira flinched and knew she had to take action, before his flesh hand—with nails, drew blood.

She put herself in his path on purpose, letting her body be pliable when he irately plowed into her.

Reflexively, his arms wrapped around her waist before she toppled over.

"What are you-?" he demanded.

She tried to be placating, rested her hands on his upper arms. "Why?" she gently asked, and he grimaced and looked away—but didn't break from her—"we may only have two days left to live; so why hurt yourself like this?" She attempted to make him keep eye contact with her; only partially succeeding.

Mozenrath shuddered and tried to tear free, but she entwined her arms around him to make it harder. He finally gave up, sighing; his tense body went lax, probably in resignation.

"It…it doesn't matter now," he murmured, his voice dead and his eyes suddenly vacant, "just…go. Leave me alone for a while." There were no threats, no self-pity even, just a toneless, if not resigning request.

_Because that's what everyone did before_, she intuited: _destructive habit enabling_.

That was enough reason, so far as she could see, to not leave him.

So, she merely stood there. He sighed quietly and whirled away. Out of her peripherals, she caught Xerxes watching, not daring to even move; but his expression when he fixed on his master while mournful and accepting, glinted with hope when his eyes fastened unto her, melting into a wordless plea.

He'd unraveled what her motives and had a shred of faith at least, that she might succeed—probably because he never had in times past.

This was nothing new then, this behavior; that wasn't a comforting thought.

So, letting out a muted, steadying breath she reclosed the distance between them, but this time Mozenrath caught her movement and halted before stomping her over.

He said nothing, but leveled a disapproving glower—for not leaving, she assumed. He lingered near the curtains, where enough of the shadow cast covered half of his silhouette; the other half was bathed in pale moonlight.

_Half-light; half dark_, she mused, stepping close enough to clutch his chilled hand again.

He shivered at her touch and winced, as though it pained him somehow; Sadira wasn't encouraged by the way he avoided looking at her, or at how icy his flesh hand felt. She grasped his bone hand too; granted it was still wrapped, but he flinched and tried to recoil. It bothered her how repulsed he seemed over his own self.

If he was disgusted by himself, then how did he expect others to react to him?

Sadira had a good idea; it wrenched her stomach though.

"You know that watching you like this hurts Xerxes," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Mozenrath actually chuckled sardonically at that. "Ah yes; I'd almost forgotten your little threat," he softly replied, his eyes locking onto her now.

His dark eyes were wide and blazing, but at the same time so desolate; like a blooming desert ravaged by a howling windstorm.

He was frightening to look at; Sadira couldn't help but tug at her magic ever so subtly, just to assure herself it was there and ready—should she need it. His gaze focused and unfocused rapidly; he was scarcely holding on. But why? What had happened in Cassim's room to unhinge him so dramatically?

Concern swelled in her; she couldn't dismiss the thought that he was falling apart inside.

She clutched his hands tighter, trying to give him some sort of anchor in reality, something physical he could cling to.

She mentally grasped at ideas to calm him down, to persuade him to open up, even a little bit.

Enough to let the…whatever it was _out_ so he could regain control.

"I would never take Xerxes from you," Sadira admitted quietly at length, "I only said that out of anger." She shrugged at the wizard's carefully neutral expression. "Even if I wanted to; he'd never leave you and we both know it; he cares about you too much."

For a few moments, the wizard only bore into her with his gaze, as if carefully measuring her words, sifting truth from lies in them. "I know you wouldn't," he murmured after a long silence.

He was still warring within himself; Sadira could practically feel the host of rampaging emotions battling under his skin. His hands would tremble before stilling again and flickers of something's would cross his eyes; he would shiver as if cold despite it being a warm night. Sadira could think of no logical reasons, though, why it would be linked to _Cassim_.

"You know," she offered, unable to think of any other options, "I'm a magic-worker too."

Mozenrath only waited.

"If we're anything," she evenly went on, "it's good at keeping secrets"—

Now he anticipated where she was taking it and tried to pull away; she didn't let him. The streets made one strong; that was as certain as the sun's baleful heat.

"I'd give my word to not reveal it," she earnestly added when he only shook his head and became more insistent in demanding she go; but she decided to try at least one more time.  
"I know what it's like to deal with anger," she professed, thinking of her prior competition with Jasmine for Aladdin…misguided as it had been.

It proved the wrong thing to say. The wizard sputtered, laughing dementedly and completely without humor. He successfully tore from her and stared with wide eyes at her, his pupils dilated; he was shaking uncontrollably.

"Anger," he repeated, his tone trembling as much as the rest of him; Sadira tried to reclose the distance but he stayed out of reach. "What could you know about that?" his voice was disturbingly uneven, wavering, and Sadira wondered if he were having a nervous breakdown.

And then the anger resurfaced; his already dark eyes seemed to shadow over even more, his entire form seemed to grow overcast, tainted by whatever it was lurking just under his pale skin. Sadira repressed a swallow, and didn't let herself move, even as she watched the feral rage consume him once more.

"All you've ever known were the streets," the wizard snapped, his desolate face twisted into fresh anger, "you've never been abandoned, betrayed, taken from everything you've ever known. All your life was was the question of where you'd snatch your next meal!" He lividly flailed his arms and Sadira watched Xerxes twitch in fear; she wondered why till she felt Mozenrath's magic knock her off her feet and onto the floor. She went down with a yelp; and Xerxes was instantly there, wrapped around his master's hand.

His raised hand; was he planning on hitting her?

"Master!" the eel cried, "Stop! Master promised! Try harder control temper!"

Sadira brought her magic to bear as the wizard tried to shake his hand free, yelling at Xerxes to get off and stay out of it.

With a gesture, Sadira whipped Xerxes off Mozenrath and grabbed him when her magic threw him into her arms.

Mozenrath reeled on her, his face contorted into more fury than she thought possible for just one person.

"So," he murmured viciously, "I thought you said your promise was out of anger?"

"I won't take him," Sadira returned, "but I won't let you hurt him again either."

He winced and drew back from her, as if she'd hit him and Sadira couldn't stop herself from swallowing fearfully.

The anger had vanished too quickly from his face for it to be…normal.

He was coming apart, she knew that now; she couldn't be sure how much of a hold he had left on himself, but it wasn't much.

She had to calm him down first; then think of…something.

Where was Genie? No; seeing Al or the others would just set him off again.

She and Xerxes had to handle this.

She carefully got to her feet, deliberately making her motions slow to not startle him; he was flinching and tensed again, looking like a frightened animal ready to bolt.

"It'll be all right," she soothed, trying to reach for him, he jerked back and shook his head, his eyes glazed over and far too wide to be in control, "whatever it is, I'll do my best to help."

The sputtering laughter again, but this time, in the place of rage was infinite sadness. Mournful eyes appraised her, and Sadira's lips parted in astonishment at the agony etching his every feature.

"I'm far beyond 'help,'" was the toneless declaration, before he rushed from the chamber.

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He couldn't breathe.

It didn't matter, he ran, trying to gasp in tight little breaths as his feet pounded the floors.

He didn't know where he was going.

That didn't matter either, he kept running.

The halls were dark, empty, his bare feet scarcely making sound on the polished marble, glowing softly under gentle moonlight that peaked through the tall pillars on his left side, opening to the outside.

Outside; he wanted out.

He had to get out.

He ran in the shadows. He didn't want anyone to see him, even if no one was around.

He ran, and it eventually registered in some tiny corner of his mind that he could feel warm, course stone under his feet and could smell night blooming flowers.

The scent of jasmine filled his senses; his mother flitted through his mind. He choked back a sob.

Wham!

Mozenrath crumpled over the curved sitting bench he had run into; hissing from fresh pain shooting through his legs. He sank to his knees, letting his feverish head rest on the cool marble.

He gulped in ragged breaths, forcing himself to take in his surroundings.

He glanced about him. It was pitch black, he was near the palace's outer walls, in the sultan's gardens by the looks of it. The large fountain the princess favored was just behind him, between him and the large doorway he'd fled through.

The vital thing was he was alone. He didn't spy a soul anywhere nearby. He inhaled several deep breaths, ordering his body to relax; he was alone, therefore he could let down his guard—just a little bit.

What had he been thinking!? If he'd even one shred of sense, he ought to have just stayed abed, and let his cursed father remain where he was.

He bit back a curse. It wouldn't have been that easy though; he'd've been forced to work alongside his treacherous father-against Desdane? No; that would have been more than he could bear. Aladdin was intolerable enough.

Aladdin.

Mozenrath winced hard, as if kicked in the stomach. It had been the street rat all this time; his long lost brother, the little 'monkey' who he'd silently feared was dead, or still scraping the streets for a meager bit of food; his arch nemesis all the while.

Mozenrath swallowed the gall that rose in the back of his throat as he lifted his head, staring off into nothing. How could he not have seen it?

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**A/N: **I was going to keep on, but wanted to give you something today. So, enjoy! Plz review!


	96. Chapter 96: At Long Last

**A/N: **Hey all; thanks so much for the prayers and support. I'm happy to say my back is feeling better and that the application process for grad school is coming along great. I hope you're all doing well, and here's the next chapter! Enjoy and plz review Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 96: At Long Last _

The night's events played over in his mind like horrid Greek tragedy, mocking him, railing him, unrelenting.

Like Desdane himself.

He must be so damaged. Yes; he had to accept the cold reality now. It was far past time; when he'd lifted a hand without even realizing it to hit the sand mouse and Xerxes had restrained him, that's when he knew: he was even more damaged than he'd ever known.

The little mouse had, for whatever inexplicable reason, shown him nothing but extravagant kindness ever since he'd been dropped like a sack of dates into her life. But, what had possessed him to react to her offer of help as he had?!

His body violently shook again; deep, deep down, he knew the answer: madness.

_He's insane! _ That wretched parrot had exclaimed. _ What more reason do you need!?_

The vile creature had been right, Desdane had seen to it. And healing or not, the mouse had failed. Perhaps her spells had prevailed for a time in keeping the symptoms at bay, but Mozenrath was only too aware that Desdane's evil magic would not be so easily thwarted, not even by the Elixir of Life.

He sighed; his doom had been sealed on the night he was taken, it had been sealed before that even.

His forehead returned to the marble. No; he had been right: he was far beyond help. Even if by some miracle he survived, Mukhtar's words about the blood ritual rang true, his own as well.

Death was his only escape. There was no other way.

Which meant he couldn't go away with the sand mouse; tonight proved he'd only be a liability, a danger to her. Whatever compelled her to make the offer, to trust him, as she clearly (and wrongly) did, he'd only continuously threaten her safety and well-being.

He couldn't take the risk. He'd failed himself (again) and more importantly Xerxes (again as well), now he could add the mouse to the dismal list.

No; it had to stop. He was fracturing from the inside out, and had he been merely a regular human, his…instability would offer only limited peril to everyone around him.

But, he was a _sorcerer_; and the monolithic force of magic raging in his blood made him a deathly peril to all of the Seven Deserts should he break again—and the mouse prove unable to heal him.

He swallowed hard, the picture of Agrabah consumed in an inferno lacerating his mind. He shuddered and pushed it away. The acidy taste of gall returned as he'd beheld images of the mouse, the sultan, even the street rat and his entourage lying, charred and mangled in the ravaged streets, amongst the shattered rubble that was once his home.

He was numbed at the realization that such a sight would once have delighted him to no end.

As it would have delighted Desdane.

He flinched. Yes; like Desdane.

He shook his head in disbelief of his own blind stupidity. All of those times he'd bragged to Aladdin and co. about his 'brilliance' and it had been his brother; all of those close brushes with victory when he'd nearly defeated Aladdin and taken over Agrabah, it'd been his brother and his own homeland.

He'd been so foolish, why had he never sought the truth harder? Why had he fled from it?

His father's abandonment returned to his thoughts like a searing knife, lancing him through. He winced and curled up on himself.

Perhaps Cassim had seen something; it was possible. Perhaps his father had never sought him out, but had sought Aladdin because he'd sensed something 'wrong' about his elder son.

Mozenrath wanted to deny it to himself; only no objections rose to his defense.

So much for his stellar brilliance.

He let out a consigning breath; allowed his mind wander as he let himself be absorbed in the sound of the bubbling fountain.

There was no point in denying the inevitable. He was fully aware of where his fate laid now; he'd have no choice but to battle Desdane alongside his 'father.' If they won, and if he survived, he'd simply disappear. He'd leave Xerxes behind with the mouse (they both would be safer without him darkening their lives) and he'd vanish. The Land of the Black Sand would surely be leveled in the coming war; which would be for the best. That vile place was a curse to everyone who dwelt there: him, Xerxes, the mamlocks. Surely the mamlocks would all be destroyed in the war; they'd have some kind of peace at last, and he would go away, somewhere.

He didn't know, nor care where. He would find some isolated corner of existence.

His body didn't relent in shaking, so he stopped fighting it and let his frantic and unhinged emotions vent out. He was relieved that the fountain sounded so loud in the dead of night.

It covered the quiet muffles of his sobbing.

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Aladdin carefully lifted the Oracle off its resting place on the stand. It shimmered an array of opal-rainbow colors as the Oracle's entity emerged from the lights.

"I may answer one question of anything you ask," she regally reminded Aladdin.

On either side of him were Jasmine and his father. Beside them were the others, Iago sitting on Genie's shoulder. Abu sat on Al's shoulder.

Al took a steadying breath. Something told him deep, deep inside that the answer to his question would radically change his life; he just couldn't grasp how or why.

But, he needed to know.

"Why does Mozenrath want to kill my father?" he asked.

The Oracle nodded, as if expecting this question. "The boy you call Mozenrath holds animosity for your father because he believes your father is responsible for the pain and suffering he endured whilst imprisoned in the Land of the Black Sand."

Cassim gaped in disbelief, Jasmine and the others all reacted the same way; Aladdin was too shocked to speak.

Why would Mozenrath blame that on his _father?!_ It was absurd! They'd never even met!

"But," he heard Jaz say beside him as his mind tried to grapple with this incredible revelation, "why blame that on Aladdin's father and not on Desdane?"

"Yeah," Genie put in, "that makes no sense at all."

Iago just shook his head. "Wait for it kids," he told everyone bluntly.

The Oracle nodded soberly. "While it is true," she replied, "that Mozenrath does blame Desdane for his pain, he blames Cassim as well. For, he believes that had Cassim found and rescued him while he was still a child, many of the tortures and punishments he'd endured later he would have escaped from."

Al riveted on his father when Cassim gasped in shock grabbed his son's sleeve and sank to his knees.

"Dad? Dad, what is it?" He didn't like how his father had suddenly paled to ashen, and his wide eyes were staring off into nothing.

"It…it can't be," his father murmured, his tone raw and desperate. "It can't be so."

He sounded as though he were pleading for something, begging, but why?

Al shook his father's shoulders. "Dad," he said, more insistent, "what can't be? What can't be so?"

Jaz knelt down by them, checked Cassim over. "Should I get a healer?"

That seemed to jolt his father out of whatever he'd been seized by before. "No," he immediately rebuffed, "I'm all right." He quickly shuffled to his feet. His face, now etched by determination, for some reason Al didn't understand, fixed on the Oracle.

"Where is he now?" he demanded of the Oracle.

"In the sultan's garden, near the princess's fountain," was the grave answer.

Cassim took off running out of the Treasury before anyone can demand an answer.

Everyone looked after him in bafflement. "Aladdin?" Jasmine asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Al shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know what's happening, Jaz," he said helplessly.

"Well, that can be fixed," Genie helpfully put in, and turned from them to the Oracle. "So, why is it the Wiz-kid blames Al's dad too? What does he have to do with it?"

No one bothered to tell Genie that was technically two questions.

The Oracle's tiny smile hinted she was thinking along the same lines. "His reason is simple: the boy you call Mozenrath…is in fact Farid, Cassim's eldest son."

The next sound anyone heard was that of Iago fainting.

And then Aladdin's boots pounding the floor as he raced after his father.

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Mozenrath's throat burned as he tried to gulp in forced breaths of the fragrant air. His eyes felt raw from weeping, but at least he was shaking a bit less. He tried to rise, but his legs wouldn't oblige him. He glanced around cautiously.

Alone; he was still alone.

It was a heavy, burdensome weight after always having Xerxes and later on the mouse; it had been liberating in a way, to have others around him, that warm feeling of companionship. He had felt safe, protected.

Alone, he was exposed, vulnerable. He shivered again, pulled his robe tighter around him.

Why, why did he feel wary all of a sudden?

And then someone touched his head. He gasped and spun around.

It was the sultan.

He sat on the bench where Mozenrath had not moved from kneeling before it, his arms folded and resting upon it. He offered the wizard a small, amiable smile and softly stroked the top of his head.

"I've been looking for you, my boy," he said by way of greeting, and Mozenrath looked down. He was too drained, too achingly bone-weary; too…empty to be rebuked tonight.

He already knew he was crazy and a monster; he hardly needed the sultan informing him as well.

His insides wrenched anyways; he simply waited.

"I heard about what happened in Aladdin's father's chamber," the monarch said, and Mozenrath flinched, caught off guard.

Where was the reprimand? The tone of righteous anger? The threats of punishment?

He waited, but the sultan said nothing else and so Mozenrath replayed the statement in his mind and realized that sultan sounded…concerned?

Over him? Why?

And then he recognized he did owe the sultan an apology. It was his palace after all; and like the mouse, he had deigned to show him kindness, whatever his compulsions were.

"I am sorry, sultan," he quietly professed, despite his emotions numbing it registered in some part of his mind, this was the only the second time he'd ever genuinely apologized to anyone about anything.

He glanced sideways at the little ruler to see how he'd react.

The sultan only offered him that small, non-threatening smile again, and nodded, apparently accepting it, and for some reason, that made Mozenrath feel better, knowing there'd be no enmity between them. He liked the princess's father; he was perhaps one of three people he genuinely liked in the entire world.

"It has been a very trying day for all of us," the sultan allowed by way of concession, and sighed, "with everything's that's happened: the wedding and 40 thieves, the Oracle, Aladdin discovering his father"—

Mozenrath couldn't stop his body from flinching at that. He kept his gaze fixed on the bench.

The sultan's ran his fingers through his hair again; Mozenrath didn't mind. It was soothing in a way; it coaxed out the memory of his mother doing the same when he was a child and upset.

"My boy," the sultan gently asked, "why do you simply not tell them?"

Mozenrath was only half paying attention; he suddenly missed her: his mother. He didn't understand why that memory would resurface now after all these years.

Was it because he was far from Desdane? Did distance play a role in his magic?

"Tell them what?" he asked, deadpan, after realizing the sultan was expecting some kind of answer.

He met the sultan's gaze and the monarch gave him a very understanding smile. "Tell them that Aladdin is your brother."

The wizard's mouth fell open before he could stop it. "H...how?"

The sultan cupped his chin in one hand, traced the outline of his face with a finger of the other.

"When I first saw you," he began, his tone musing, "I couldn't help but notice that your face is shaped very similar to his. I thought it a coincidence, until it occurred to me that you also have the same hair color, and your noses are alike." He cocked his head to one side, pondering and then added. "It's true, your eyes are different, and"—he entwined one of the wizard's curls around one finger.

"My mother," the wizard numbly supplied for him.

The sultan nodded, apparently assuming as much.

"You are very observant," Mozenrath emotionlessly appraised.

"I'm old," the monarch quipped good-naturedly in reply, "I'd better be."

In spite of everything, that coaxed a small smile from the other. He didn't notice the concerned look the sultan gave him, nor how he pursed his lips at his empty face, now staring off into nothing.

"I'm sorry," the ruler soberly avowed, jarring Mozenrath back into reality. Bewildered dark eyes met twinkling blue, and the sultan carefully used his puffy sleeve to wipe the tear-tracks from the wizard's face. Mozenrath wanted to break away, having swallowed an endless string of humiliations already, but the grave lines etched into the usually jolly ruler's expression kept him where he was.

He didn't understand. What did the sultan care if he had a miserable existence? Could the little man really hold that much pity inside of him?

It didn't matter; he wanted no one's pity.

"Don't be," the wizard tried to snap out, but fumbled over his words; he couldn't bring himself to be unkind to the sultan.

Some villain he was.

"I meant," the other replied, "I'm sorry, that you were taken from your family," and the hand holding his chin brushed his face consolingly; against his better judgment, Mozenrath let the touch calm him, "it was a terrible thing to happen; I wish we had been able to stop him."

Mozenrath shook his head. "There is no"—he stopped himself just short of saying: stopping him.

He gulped, he didn't want to obliterate the old man's hope; but he couldn't bring himself to lie out-rightly either. My, what a conscientious dark wizard he'd become.

Who knew?

He would just blame it on Aladdin. He winced again.

"He…mixed his blood with mine," he reluctantly admitted instead, flexing his flesh hand and fidgeting in surprise when the sultan took it in both of his.

"What does that mean?"

He sighed in resignation. "It means even if you kill him, part of him will still exist on, in me." He looked away, feeling his eyes fill again. "I'm far from the child he stole that night."

"My boy," was the kindly response, "it is true, we have no power to change the past, but you have the present. This we can change."

The humorless chuckle slipped past his chilled lips followed by another shake of the dark curls. "No sultan," was the flat reply, "not with me. I'm too…," he sighed; best to just say it. "I've done too much…and too much has been done to me." It had been so stark tonight; like the gleaming edges of broken glass, just how truly destroyed he was.

"Those are wounds indeed," the sultan heavily conceded, "but all wounds can be mended; they can heal, with time-if you give yourself that."

Mozenrath shook his head again; flexing his bone hand. "Not all can be." His tone was hollow.

A little hand touched his face again. "My boy," the sultan earnestly said, "I know it seems hopeless now. There are situations where all seems lost. When my Jasmine died, I believed everything was over forever"—

He nodded to Mozenrath's incredulous expression.

"Yes, when the Ethereal appeared," was the very somber clarification, and Mozenrath nodded that he had heard of her, "she deemed us unworthy to go on and her…structure demolished Agrabah. We were lost, doomed; Jasmine was crushed under a fallen pillar," he shuddered at the memory, "but, then the unexpected happened and the Ethereal restored Jasmine to us." He paused at the wizard's dumbfounded expression.

"Sh…she changed her mind?!" Something kindled inside of him, an aching for the truth; a tiny flickering. "Why? Why did she deem you unworthy then decide she was wrong?" Burning eyes scoured the sultan's face for answers.

"Well," the ruler explained, still holding the other's hand, "she came to judge us; to declare our kingdom worthy to go on or…ahem; anyways, we showed her our royal library, our marketplace, the palace fountains, and so on"—

Mozenrath was nodding; apparently choosing those mentally himself in sultan's place.

-"and she said they were trivialities"—

"What!?"

"Oh, yes, she said they were meaningless, and so she called down this…structure, that spewed out hideous lightning," a sigh, "I begged her to punish me, to spare my kingdom, but she refused. At last, we decided to fight till the end. A building fell, a little boy was nearby…Jasmine…saw he was about to be crushed." A heavy sigh. "She pushed him out of the way in time…it…fell on her instead."

"She sacrificed herself," Mozenrath quietly said; he glanced up at the monarch and swallowed hard.

The little man's eyes were filled with tears; his face was sallow with the memory.

"I stood there, with the boy's mother," he went on after a moment, "my baby…she was…. But, when the Ethereal saw it she said she had seen what she needed to and ended the carnage. She repaired everything and made all as it was before. She even revived Jasmine."

"But…_why?_"

"She said it was because Jasmine understood what it was that made us worthy," was the reply, "and Jasmine revealed: it was the people. Not the libraries or palaces, but the _people_ that dwell in them. They are what make a kingdom great."

"That was her judgment: the people?"

The monarch nodded the small smile again on his face. "Yes; and she warned if we ever forgot it, she'd return."

"A heavy pronouncement."

The sultan caught him off guard by shrugging. "Not really, my boy." He gestured towards to the walls. "What good are houses, without happy families to fill them? What good are markets without honest businessmen to trade in them?" A wave towards the palace. "What good is my palace if I don't watch over Agrabah with the utmost integrity? What good is a royal family if they don't show everyone the same justice and fairness? They're only empty buildings, good for nothing."

Mozenrath chewed on his lip. He'd never thought of it in those terms before. He wanted to instinctively throw the sultan's words out as rubbish—but he remembered all the literature on the Ethereal he'd read. She was said to be the most righteous of the immortal judges. She only sought good, never lent an eye to any partiality and exercised 'ruthless fairness.'

That was hard to argue with.

And…'rubbish' is what Desdane would proclaim the sultan's words to be.

But…what would _Farid_ call them? Mozenrath sighed; admitting to himself he didn't know.

"Now, my boy," the monarch inquired, "why do you ask?"

A sort of numb haze filled Mozenrath's mind as it slowly dawned on him he'd thought of his _true name_.

Farid; his name was Farid?

His throat closed as invisible walls closed in around him; he'd actually recalled his name!

But…why did he remember that _now!?_

"_Mommy, read us a story."_

"_From what book, love?"_

"_My magic book."_

A book of magic? He'd possessed a book of magic as a child?!

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**A/N: **OK, again, I was going to keep on, but this chapter was getting far longer than I'd realized. So, enjoy! Plz leave a review!


	97. Chapter 97: Wizard's Bane

**A/N: **Hi all! Many thanks for reading and my group of loyal reviewers who are still letting me know how I'm doing 97 chapters later! LOL; I know it seems like I'm out to give you all carpel tunnel, but I promise that's not the case. But, it does mean a LOT to me to still read your thoughts and comments after all this time. So, I did get some questions, but am gonna hold off on answers just because all answers are covered in the coming chapters So, here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 97: Wizard's Bane_

It took Mozenrath a few moments to realize that he could feel someone shaking him and asking if he was all right.

Dimly, cutting through the thick haze of shock was the thought that perhaps he should answer, as they sounded dreadfully worried.

Farid; he had finally remembered his birth name.

He pressed the fingers of his bone hand to one temple.

Why? Why would he recall that now? After all of this time?

He had been so very certain that Desdane had extracted that memory from him.

Was it possible that the spell had failed? That its effect was temporary, albeit long-lived?

He couldn't be certain.

But, there was the voice again, demanding to know if he was well. Should they send for a physician?

He blinked several times and turned; the sultan, he was still there, sitting beside him on the bench as Mozenrath remained curled up on the path beside the marble sitting place.

He let out a shaky breath, clutching his flailing thoughts in a strangle hold. His mind cleared ever so slightly.

"I…I'm all right," he managed, hating how unconvincing he sounded.

The sultan's expression said he wasn't too thrilled at the tone either. "Are you quite sure?" he asked dubiously.

He had both hands on the wizard's shoulders. Mozenrath nodded; vaguely surprised that he didn't mind the little monarch's touch. He'd not been touched by an elder other than Desdane as long back as he could recall—except for the fleeting memories of his mother—he flinched.

Bashirah; his mother's name had been Bashirah.

He froze as a chill of amazement rippled through him.

And on the cusp of her name, a cascade of other memories came:

Her favorite color was blue, a dark cobalt blue.

Her dark eyes had been flecked with silver.

Her long hair had always smelled of jasmine.

He gulped hard and shivered fiercely….

And she'd died of a horrible fever, screaming his name.

And begging for his forgiveness.

He swallowed back another sob, the icy tendrils wrapping around him again.

He almost wished he couldn't remember; it opened too many new wounds, as though he hadn't enough of those already.

The sultan's voice came again. He swallowed the knot in this throat and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I'm all right."

"No, my boy, I fear you are far from that. What happened?"

Far too sharp, the sultan; Mozenrath grimaced, recoiling from the thoughts of both lying to him, or perhaps worse, telling the truth.

He sighed; no, his life up until now had been one leviathan untruth. It was past time to end that.

"I…I remembered," he explained at length, tentatively meeting the ruler's eyes.

The sultan's mouth dropped open, flabbergasted. "You mean, your past, the things Desdane took away from you?"

A nod. "Some of them, not much," he admitted with a shred of disappointment, "but, it's far more than I've had in a long while."

He was completely unprepared for what happened next. The sultan actually leapt from the bench and gathered the wizard up in an ecstatic hug. "Oh! Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" the monarch gleefully exclaimed. "This is such wonderful news!"

Mozenrath's mind was too overwhelmed with disbelief to say anything at first; he grappled with the notion of the exuberant ruler actually _embracing him_ to react at once when the sultan suddenly broke away and began running in his bobbing manner towards the double doors. "We must find your father and Aladdin at once! They'll want to know"—

"No," was the blunt rebuttal.

The sultan started and froze, then slowly reclosed the distance between them. "No? But, my boy, surely"—

"No. It's not their concern." His tone was harder than granite.

The sultan jolted from his harsh voice. "No, my boy, it's most definitely their concern," he gently reproved, resting a hand on his shoulder, "they're your family"—

An adamant shake of the head. "No, not them. Not _him_."

Something like dread or foreboding shadowed the sultan's face for a moment. "My boy," was the careful reply, "I know you're angry, you're upset; something like this would be tremendously difficult for anyone. But, an opportunity as you have, to reclaim some of what you've lost, so few people will ever see such a thing in their lives." A heavy sigh. "Goodness knows I've had more than my share of opportunities lost"—

Mozenrath found that hard to believe; he opened his mouth to say so, but the sultan took his shoulder again, and the words froze on his lips at the ruler's grave countenance.

"My boy, take it from an old man; one of the hardest things you'll ever do in life is look back, see all of the doors that had been open to you…but you never took them. The hardest part is, accepting that point when it's too late to ever get those times lost back."

Something thick and painful wrenched in the wizard's stomach. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

An aide came out of the shadows and bows. "My sultan."

The monarch turned. "My, Jamal; it's so late. Why are you still up?"

The slender man looked up soberly. "Our spies have returned. Their news is…grim, my liege."

Mozenrath chewed his lip. Grim news from the Land of the Black Sand? That sounded about right.

The sultan apparently was thinking likewise. "All right," he heavily answered. "Tell them I'll be there shortly."

The youth bowed again and departed.

Mozenrath looked away. "It'd be best to not waste time, sultan." Hopefully, he'd take the hint.

The little ruler straightened. "I do not," he firmly retorted, "consider you a 'waste of my time.'"

Mozenrath wondered just how many 'mountains' worth of shock the man was capable of dropping on top of him like this. He couldn't think of anything to say, so looked down at the bench.

He heard the sultan sigh again and the hand returned to his hair. "My boy; please, at least think it over. If you prove right and me wrong: if we lose, do you really want you and your father and brother to all go to your graves as enemies? Is that truly what you wish?"

He winced and shuddered against his own volition. Ugh; the infernally shrewd sultan, apparently he had at least one more mountain to drop on his head before the night was over. The worst of it was he hadn't thought of it that way before; the ruler had a point.

A painful one; the monarch ran his hands over Mozenrath's curls once more before quietly promising him some quiet time to collect his thoughts and leaving.

Mozenrath let out a raw breath and forced himself to stand. He didn't want to rise, but his legs were getting far too cramped, and he needed to walk.

He sank back into the shadows, even though he still saw no one after the ruler left; but he just felt safer regardless. The fragrant night breeze soughed through the trees and sculpted bushes. The garden was colored in the pastels of night-blooming flowers; Mozenrath held a bloom in the palm of his flesh hand, its silky petals reminding him of the mouse.

He swallowed hard, shivering guiltily and letting the flower fall from his hand. No; it was best to not think of her…or the inevitable.

The sultan had made it sound so simple, as if he could really march into the palace now and announce to the great and pure hero Aladdin and his virtuous comic relief that he was the street rat's long lost brother; that the maniacal sorcerer next door had all this time, in fact been blood.

Mozenrath would have laughed, had his insides not been winding themselves into painful knots at the thought.

He leaned against a vine-encrusted wall, the fountain still close enough to hear. The truth of it was, while the princess had great fortune in her father, while Mozenrath had heard the tale of her abduction by the Galifem and how her father had forsaken his comfort and safety to go after her, his own father had clearly not thought such a thing worthwhile.

The sultan had chosen his child above all else; Cassim had chosen gold and adventure.

And what if he hadn't? Even if Cassim had not, for some reason, abandoned him to his fate, what did it matter now? While Mozenrath had gleaned that his father had every intention of re-entering Aladdin's life, it wasn't possible for Mozenrath.

For all of the sultan's kindness, he had omitted one very important fact: Mozenrath was still the dark wizard. Agrabah, and all the Seven Deserts, weren't simply about to forget that. Oh; certainly Aladdin the pure-hearted hero would forget his father's past just as quickly as Agrabah had forgotten Aladdin' own, but Mozenrath hadn't missed the distrustful looks and stares he'd received when leaving the street rat's room. True, nearly everyone had not recognized him, but a tiny few had, and the scathing, murderous stares were statement enough.

He was still lord of the black sand, and his reputation was every bit as black as the land he had once ruled over. He would be forever tainted, marred by his past and name as Desdane's apprentice.

No; his crimes weren't limited to stealing bread and keeping company with monkeys and obnoxious birds, with his magic and learning his life had been far more catastrophically evil then Aladdin could have ever equaled with his antics and mischief. The wizard himself wasn't even fully human anymore; his one arm eaten to the bone.

He pressed on the stone however rough, was pleasantly cool on his feet. He let out a consigning breath; no, it was perfectly evident he could never tell. The sultan would not overstep his place by revealing Mozenrath's secret; that man was far too honorable for that. But, Mozenrath wouldn't allow himself any delusions; with his destructive past, they'd never trust him. He'd be forever suspect, a criminal; never an equal. His father and the Aladdin would be a family again; the street rat was far too forgiving for it to unfold any other way.

He winced, Aladdin's words hovering over him like a dark cloud: _'forgiveness will be hard for_ _you…as you've never done it before.'_

Aladdin was so horridly pure compared to him; it was sad really, was perfect opposites they had turned out to be. It was little wonder a princess loved him and he was set to inherit a kingdom, without having to duel its previous ruler for it.

He sighed. He'd been so blind, but it was too late to lament it now. Nothing could be done to reverse it; so, he was powerless to change anything.

He'd leave; if by some miracle he survived the war, it was the only way. He wouldn't stay to see their lives unfold knowing he couldn't be a part of them.

His body hurt all over; a deep, gnawing ache sank its teeth into every limb. He hissed and rubbed his bone arm. For some reason, it throbbed. That wary feeling returned to him.

He was tired; that had to be it. But, there was no possible way he'd return to Aladdin's room tonight. He rubbed his brow; perhaps he'd just find some secluded corner of the garden to rest in. He wouldn't sleep; merely rest his eyes for a while.

The path ahead cleared to a partially open stone corridor against the palace itself, which rounded and returned to the princess's fountain. He ran his flesh hand against the twisting vine on the wall beside him, thinking of all the times Aladdin had been 'lucky' in victory.

He'd been such a fool; of course Aladdin had won, Mozenrath's magic on some level must of known their blood bind. Magic by its nature didn't want to harm its own blood, magic, by its workings, considered that akin to suicide.

Magic was not self-destructive…except for the very, very darkest magic.

Those, Mozenrath had avoided; yes, even he had had a limit—though precious few knew that.

The vine was cool and smooth; it had a very fresh, invigorating scent to it. It mingled well with the soft fragrance of the flowers. The thought flitted across his mind that he should pick one of the flowers, go to the mouse and apologize.

He froze in his tracks and shook the thought away. It was appalling! He'd…he'd….

Well, he did owe her an apology- that was true.

But…he shivered. What if _they_ showed up and he lost control again…?

No; he thought, swallowing hard, he wouldn't risk it. He'd stay away, far from where he'd cause more trouble.

He rounded the corner and stepped into the half-open corridor. Columns on the garden side let the cool breeze play with his hair. His thoughts kept him too focused to realize he wasn't alone.

Until he walked into a very tall, large figure; he grunted and looked up, rubbing his brow.

It was Razoul.

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**A/N: **Well, hope you all like! Plz review!


	98. Chapter 98: Broach of Midas

**A/N: **Here we go! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 98: The Broach of Midas _

Razoul seized the wizard's robe's collar before he could react, lifting Mozenrath off his feet without an obvious effort.

"Well," he snarled into the wizard's face and Mozenrath tried to recoil—his _breath_, really!—"the wizard is up plotting late tonight." The sound of Razoul backhanding him cracked loud in the night. He shook Mozenrath violently. "What are you up to, boy?"

Mozenrath grabbed the guard's large hand. No one hits him. With a word, he lit it on fire. Razoul yelped angrily, letting him drop—Mozenrath landed neatly on his feet—and hopped around. There were five other guards surrounding him. They all drew out their swords, but did nothing else except eye him fearfully.

Useless fools.

Mozenrath sneered; his somber mood alleviated a little by the late night…entertainment.

Why not? He could make these worthless guards good for something. Perhaps a little amusement would prove beneficial. Get his mind off of…everything else.

"Now," he mused aloud, "what shall it be tonight?" He traced his lip with one finger as Razoul finally extinguished his hand and bared his teeth murderously at the wizard. Mozenrath only laughed.

"Well, you're incompetent as guards," he told the burly oaf, "but, I don't want all of the sultan's gold wasted on you." With a flick of his wrist, bats appeared made of onyx smoke and rushed the men. In the next moment, they were yanking the guards off their feet and flying them madly around the garden as Mozenrath laughed and laughed.

The problem was, it was hollow, this amusement. His laughter died as the realization crept into his thoughts that this ought to be hilarious; he should be laughing hard enough to weep.

He swallowed hard. To weep….

His lips formed the words to dismiss the bats and they vanished in swirls of smoke, dropping the guards carelessly all over the garden in a tapering chorus of grunts and yells.

Guards landed in trees, in bushes, one in the fountain. Mozenrath didn't bother to note where Razoul landed. He turned and walked away. The guards were of no account.

Why? Why was humiliating them so…so…empty? There was no gratification anymore, no humor; no thrill of fun in—

He called out as a large arm wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and a large hand holding a white cloth pressed roughly into his face.

Mozenrath writhed and struggled wildly, but Razoul held him fast, his grip painful. The wizard tried to yell for Xerxes, but he was getting dizzy.

What!? What was happening!? Why was everything spinning around? He didn't smell any herbs on the cloth, what was…was….

No…no smell, but he could _taste_ something, it was bitter…he was getting so tired.

"You've plagued this kingdom for the last time," Razoul growled fiercely in his ear, "I got this just for you; it was worth every gold piece I spent."

Mozenrath could barely stay awake. It was Wizard's Bane, it had to be. His limbs felt heavier than lead, he couldn't remember any of his spells, his magic felt fuzzy and far away, he could barely reach to touch it…he felt his head pitch forward.

A white haze filled his senses. He could scarcely register if he was still in the garden. Only the faintest sound of water told him he was near the fountain.

"What do we do with him?" he heard one of the guards inquire nervously.

"Oh, we're going to entertain ourselves," he heard Razoul snarl in reply, "after all, we've been his entertainment more than once; without his precious magic, he's at our mercy."

Mozenrath couldn't move his arms or legs; he was too lightheaded to know which way was up. Some part of his senses that weren't succumbed to the potion told him he should be terrified; that no one but the sultan knew he was here and so Razoul could have him sliced into bits and pieces before anyone thought to look for him…but then he asked himself: _why?_

_Why?_ If he was dead, he couldn't hurt Xerxes; if he was dead, there would be no chance of accidently hitting the mouse.

If he was dead, there would be need to quietly exile himself in some secluded corner of the world.

If he was dead, he'd be finally free of Desdane.

He had the vague sense of falling as Razoul released him and he crumpled to the stone pathway, his lips feeling numb as he moaned softly.

There was the faint 'shkting' of metal as a sword was drawn. "We should kill him now before someone comes."

"Don't be an idiot," Razoul snapped in reply, "we're going to take our time in getting rid of him; and then the little witch will be next."

_What…what!?_ His thoughts exclaimed. _He was going to go after the mouse!?_

_NO! _

Strangling his senses back into obedience, twisting and bending every last tiny drop of control he had left, he screamed out in his mind: _Aladdin!_

That blasted street rat brother of his had to come and stop Razoul from using that vile—

"Gah!" he heard the burly guard yell as he fell over.

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When Aladdin dropped out of the large tree over the head guard and knocked the large man over, Cassim wasted no time in dispatching the sultan's other guards to get to his son.

Not killed of course; but really, they weren't much for swordsmen, Cassim snatched one of the men's blades to accompany his own and with a saber in each hand, had no trouble in 'persuading' the guards to give him and his eldest some space.

The guards retreated, gathering in the far alcove to watch his other boy settle differences with the head guard.

Cassim only spared them a fleeting glance as Aladdin neatly dodged swipes of the man's blade, drawing Razoul farther and farther away from them.

He scooped up the lithe boy now able to see him clearly at last.

It was Farid; there was no mistaking it. He was horridly pale and dark beneath his eyes, but he had the same raven curls as Bashirah, his nose, and the features that made him similar enough to him and his late wife to know his eldest.

He held his boy tightly, choking back overwhelmed sobs; at last, after nearly giving up hope, his search was over.

He had found Aladdin, his little monkey; and now he was once again holding his Farid, his little scholar.

"Get out of here, street rat!" he heard the guard yell over the clangs of metal hitting stone. "You're not the princess's consort yet! You have no business meddling in guards' affairs."

Aladdin didn't bother replying, but Cassim hoisted Farid into his arms; his boy was limp as a rag and he rounded on the guard, unable to keep the rage from his face.

"I am the sultan's guest," he avowed lividly, "and this is _my son_."

Deathly silence reigned. Aladdin leapt off a statue he'd taken refuge on, landing beside Razoul.

The huge guard spun on him. "Is this true, street rat!?"

Aladdin gave him a lopsided look. "Yes; he's my brother. And we need to talk to him—now; alone."

Razoul looked like he was going to say something, but then thought the better of it. He re-sheathed his blade and stormed off, muttering about thieves breeding street rats and dark wizards—and how it was so fitting the wizard's and street rat's father was the King of Thieves.

Aladdin rushed up to Cassim, who was walking with Farid in his arms towards the princess's fountain.

"Dad; what's wrong with him?"

Cassim laid Farid on the fountains' flat outer surface. "He's been poisoned."

Aladdin recoiled. "You mean with this?" he pulled out a bottle and white cloth.

Cassim gave him a look.

Al's response was an unrepentant grin and: "I sort of, relieved Razoul of them."

Cassim held out his hand and Al turned the items over. Cassim dropped the cloth and pulled the cork from the dark bottle; took a sniff. "No smell; I was afraid of that."

"What does that mean?"

Cassim pulled his golden Midas broach off his blue cape and drew a cloth from a pocket. "It means that your guard somehow got his hands on a potion called Wizard's Bane."

Aladdin put a hand to Farid's brow, checking for fever. "How bad is it?"

Cassim sighed. "Bad." He held the bottle to the moon to see how much of the potion was used.

The bottle was empty, except for perhaps a couple drops of strange onyx fluid. He could hear it sniggering in glee.

His stomach fell into his boots.

"Dad?"

"Get him into the fountain, quickly."

"Why?"

Cassim took his legs. "No questions; just do it."

Aladdin did so, taking Farid's arms. They lowered him into the lower part of the fountain, with his head resting against the edge. Aladdin held him to keep his head above the water as Cassim whispered some words to the broach, now cupped in both hands. The outline of the hand shimmered before the broach itself make a sound like it was cracking open.

Golden light radiated from it, like a tiny sun; Cassim laid it in the fountain.

He and Aladdin watched as the golden light flooded the water, and the soon enough, it spread to the large upper goblet-shaped tier of the fountain, which overflowed and spilled numerous little streams of golden water into the lower pool.

Cassim waited until he could hear the water singing quietly a haunting, beautiful song in a language long dead before explaining to Aladdin's gawking expression. He knelt beside Aladdin, and carefully dipped the cloth into the breathtaking water, washing Farid's brow, face and neck with it.

"Midas created the golden hand to turn anything it touched into gold"—

Aladdin nodded; he'd heard the tale it seemed.

"Well, Midas also decided that he wanted to live long enough to enjoy his endless supply of wealth, and so created this broach. He had heard legend of something called the Elixir of Life"—

He wondered at Aladdin's grin—

"But, as he never found it, he decided to create his own version of it." He gestured to where the broach lay in the water, "it has the ability to offer some ward against magic relics and creatures, but its primary power is this." He waved at the fountain, alive with glowing water, and mystical song. "To turn any water into healing elixir."

Aladdin nodded. "Like the Elixir of Life."

Cassim nodded. "Not as powerful, but close." He finished bathing Farid's head and cupped his face in both hands. "Farid," he said his voice grave and part pleading, "wake up."

Nothing happened.

"Dad, what does that potion do? It's not just poison, is it?"

"It's a poison like no other," Cassim grimly admitted. "We have to make him wake up."

Then, they began in earnest, both of them gently shaking him, bathing his brow and face in the water, calling his name and telling him he had to wake up.

But, nothing was happening. Cassim swallowed. That fool guard had used the entire bottle on Farid; Cassim was no expert in magic but he knew Wizard's Bane, even for a very dangerous mage, only required a couple drops.

He tried harder. He wouldn't let himself think that Farid was perhaps beyond waking, that he'd been overdosed; that it was too late.

He wouldn't let himself think that.

Beside him, Aladdin seemed to be picking up his anxiety. He scooped water in his hands against his brother's face, tried begging, ordering; nothing was working.

Cassim began to shake; no, Farid's pallor was taking on a sickly green tone.

"Dad," Aladdin said, seeing it too, "what's happening?"

"The potion is taking effect," Cassim angrily said, bathing his son's face desperately, "it pulls the sorcerer into a waking coma; they can hear what's happening around them, but they can't react, their mind is awake, but their magic is asleep, and their body is frozen. The green means it's taking over. No, no, no!" he splashed more water on Farid, and begged him to wake up.

In his peripherals, he saw Aladdin thinking. "Wait," his son said thoughtfully, "we're doing this wrong."

"What?"

"He may be Farid, but he's still Mozenrath too in some ways."

"What difference"—

"Because Mozenrath is known for two things: magic…and temper." He turned to Farid and began telling him that if he didn't wake up, once they won, he was going to rule the Land of the Black Sand in his place…and then went into detail over the changes he would make.

Cassim could only gawk in disbelief. And he thought Saluk had a deranged imagination!

Aladdin went on and on about how he'd make Iago co-ruler, how Genie would take care of all inter-kingdom relations, Abu would be the Treasurer—or maybe Iago should be Treasurer and Sadira's worm Jib should rule.

Cassim could only laugh in relief when he heard Farid moan ever so slightly. His eyelashes fluttered as if he were trying to wake…but still didn't.

"It's working dad," Aladdin said hopefully.

"But he's still not waking up; we don't have time on our side," Cassim countered gravely, taking his eldest by the arms and leaning over him, "Farid, please, please try." He didn't care that his voice was trembling, that he was trembling. "I…I can't lose you, not after just finding you again." He shuddered at the thought. "Please, not after all these years; not after all of the fruitless searches. Not after thinking I'd lost you forever."

Aladdin chewed his lip. He pulled his brother out of the water, ignoring his dad's protests that the water was the only thing holding the poison at bay and laid him on the fountain's rim. "Farid, this is not a suggestion." He laid his hand on Farid's chest, cringing when he realized that he was barely breathing. "As your brother I'm _telling_ you to wake up, right _now_."

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Aladdin wanted to fall over in relief when Mozenrath's dark eyes blearily fluttered open, albeit only halfway and he let out a muted moan.

His dad let out a massive sigh of relief, his face breaking out in an exuberant smile. He collected Farid in his arms again, pulling off his cobalt cloak to dry him off.

It didn't surprise Aladdin when Mozenrath said a word and they were all dry again. He wasn't even fully awake yet.

Mozenrath's head was resting against their father's front, just under his shoulder. Aladdin watched as the dark eyes refocused.

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**A/N: **Yes, I'm bad, I'm ending it here. There's a lot yet to cover and my brain is fried. Plus, I work tomorrow and it's 1:30 am. So…enjoy! Plz leave a review!


	99. Chapter 99: The Ties That Bind

**A/N: **Hello all; firstly, my HUGEST apologies for the latest of this chapter. My laptop died a few days ago and aside from my cell, it's my only internet connection. Also, all of my Aladdin chapters were on it…with no backups, aside from itself, so the Ch. 99 I was working on was completely lost. Ugh…so now I'm using a very old model laptop that a FABULOUS friend is loaning me till I either get mine back from the shop (in about 2-4 wks) or get a new one. Either way, I've been getting messages from many of u asking about the next chapter, so: SORRY! The laptop on loan also has NO internet connectivity, so I'll be typing them on this, saving it to my flash, driving to the local library and uploading there…sigh. But, this will work out folks, one way or another. So, plz bear with me here; but, it's here at last…the next chapter! Thx for awesomely waiting! Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 99: The Ties that Bind_

The words all jumbled around in Mozenrath's mind as his vision slowly cleared. It was so hard to concentrate, to try piecing together the fragmented sentences he heard spoken around him as his senses struggled fiercely to collect themselves.

The first thing he realized after the vertigo began to recede was he was being held. Hard, strong arms were wrapped around him, but not constraining; rather in a protecting, gentle way. Someone was talking to him; the voice fraught with concern. Why? What was happening?

And then his vision re-focused, as if a misty veil was pulled from his eyes; Aladdin was standing over him.

Which meant…it was Cassim holding him.

He bristled and tensed; tried to pull away with a hiss—but he was still dizzy and ended up pitching forward instead.

"I thought you said he could hear everything that happened before," the street rat asked their father. He sounded frustrated—and upset?

"He did," Cassim hastily replied while pulling Mozenrath carefully back into his arms, "but it'll still take a while for the elixir to do its work; right now, he's disorientated."

Mozenrath laughed humorlessly at that through gasps for air. "Oh, are you… an expert… at magic?" He shoved Cassim away and tried to stand again; livid at his own weakness, but it was Aladdin this time that caught him before he toppled over.

"Let go of me, street rat," he reflexively snapped, thrashing to break free. He made the mistake of meeting Aladdin's gaze.

He froze though at the _knowing_ look on the street rat's face.

Curses; curses eternal…_they knew_.

Only then did he recall Cassim verbally tearing into Razoul with _"this is my son,"_ and Aladdin demanding they speak with him alone, describing him to the guard as _"my brother."_

His insides twisted and wrenched themselves in ways he had never imagined possible; he yanked himself from Aladdin and backed away from them. Cassim slowly rose and put his hands up in a placating gesture.

He opened his mouth to speak, but blast it all if Aladdin didn't beat him to it. He spread his arms, clearly bewildered.

"How long did you know?" he gravely inquired.

The wizard was seized with the compulsion to run, to hide; he didn't want to have this conversation—mostly because he never anticipated he ever would. Cassim wasn't supposed to appear in the garden and save him—unless he did it for Aladdin's sake; Mozenrath was about to conclude that must have been the reason, except Cassim's face was etched with every dreadful thought Mozenrath had never expected him to have.

"What difference does it make?" he emotionlessly returned; no snark, no bite. But the question wasn't aimed at Aladdin—he'd forgive anyone anything at the drop of a turban; no, he fixed his dark, distrustful eyes on his father. He couldn't unravel that grim expression Cassim wore and the not knowing was digging into him like seething talons.

He recoiled as Cassim tried to rest his hands on his shoulders. "Farid," he murmured, as if not even really accepting what he saw, not daring to believe just yet, "you have no idea how long I've searched for you."

Claws raked across Mozenrath's already bleeding, mangled soul. He bared his teeth and retreated further, but Aladdin, meddler that he was, instantly was at Cassim's side, waiting for a chance to interject. But Mozenrath had already heard enough—more than enough.

"I know exactly how long," he bit out, "_never_!"

"What? Son; that isn't true—!"

"Oh?" he countered with another empty laugh. "Is that so?" He gestured and a fire mirror bloomed between and to one side of them; Cassim blinked at it for a moment, caught off guard. "Aladdin might be naïve enough to believe you…_father_…but," he waved to the mirror, "I've seen you '_searching for me_.'" His voice dripped venom.

And with a word, he played in the mirror a summarized re-cap of Cassim's exploits: his most ingenious thefts, most successful raids and unbelievable escapes—and the lavish celebrations that followed each escapade—none of which even hinted at 'searching' for anyone.

He was surprised though; when Cassim didn't try to object or deny anything, in fact, his gloomy countenance only deepened.

He looked bone-weary in a way; his eyes were actually sad when they left the mirror to center on the wizard again.

"It's truly amazing, son, how gifted you are; I—we, Bashirah and I, never guessed it."

Cassim's tone sounded _mournful _though; the next tirade of scathing words he'd prepared died on his tongue; he was too busy gulping back his surprise that his father reacted so. He was supposed to look guilty, having been 'found out.' And his blasted street rat brother only wore a depressed, though accepting expression.

No; this was all _wrong_! His father and Aladdin were supposed to walk away now; Cassim should be confessing it was so, admit that Mozenrath was flawed in some way and so never bothered to seek him out; then take his other son and leave.

So…why weren't they?

Cassim glanced at the rippling mirror again. "Son, can this show you anything?"

Mozenrath fidgeted. Why was he asking that? "Yes," was the return, harsh with a tone of warning.

_Don't even think of trying to exploit me_, he snarled inwardly; it was the only motive that made sense after all. 'Anything' must include treasure, loot, what a thief craves.

But he was long through being the pawn.

"Go back then," Cassim prompted instead, "go back to when you showed my taking the Emerald Scepter of Algumesh. Show us what happened _after _I left the celebration."

Dark eyes narrowed. Why was he saying this? What sort of trick—?

But no; he couldn't deceive if it was Mozenrath's own magic. Whatever they'd see would be the truth: what actually unfolded in bygone days.

"Very well," he guardedly answered and commanded the mirror.

The oval-shaped portal, rimmed in writhing flames shuddered for a moment and then plunged them back into that day. Mozenrath was wary; he kept part of his attention fixated on his father and Aladdin even as curiosity dragged another part of his awareness to the events the flaming window played for them:

_Cassim laughed and waved for his men to keep the party going as he left the large central hall of their lair to find seclusion in his private chambers. After the door closed behind him, his jovial face instantly fled to reveal a worn expression and weathered eyes. He carried a dark brown leather bag; clutching it tighter, he made for a long table near the room's center. Lit lamps flickered, making the gold-citrine light bend and weave, casting eerie shadows. Placing the bag atop the aged wood table, he opened it just as a figure stepped in quietly in behind him._

"_Stay with the men, Sahid."_

"_Hmmm," was the answer, "I think the men are too…imbibed to need me at the moment, Cassim."_

"_Stay with them anyways."_

_Very soft footsteps announced he'd be doing nothing of the kind. Cassim sighed in frustration as he drew out a long golden scepter topped with an ornate emerald._

Mozenrath didn't miss how strikingly similar it was to the Oracle.

_Cassim held it tenderly. "You're an insubordinate right-hand, Sahid."_

_Sahid only snickered as he came to stand beside the other. "All the better to serve you with, my king."_

_Cassim only raised his eyes to the ceiling then back to their prize. "This must be it, Sahid: the legendary Oracle, rumored to be crafted in another world; made before our world even knew a thing called Time."_

_Sahid let out a musing breath. "Let us hope it is, Cassim."_

_Cassim nodded—_

And Mozenrath caught the hope that blazed forth in his father's eyes in that moment—

"_Oh, Oracle," Cassim reverently began, "if you are so, please come forth from the gem that I might ask my question."_

_Several long moments passed…but nothing happened._

_Cassim's face fell. He set the scepter down on the table without a word and walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat._

In Mozenrath's peripherals, he saw Cassim mimic the posture, apparently reliving the moment they were all watching; Aladdin put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Their father patted it reassuringly.

_Sahid followed after Cassim after picking up the not-Oracle. He found Cassim sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. His arms were draped over his knees, his body limp with fatigue._

"_What am I to do, Sahid?"_

"_Do, my king?" was the serious answer. "Don't give up, that's what."_

"_It's been over ten years now." His voice was empty. He didn't look up at Sahid._

"_I know," was the equally dour response, "but this only means that we haven't found a real Oracle…yet."_

_A shake of the head. "My boys could be anywhere. There's no place I haven't sought them. I gave Bashirah my word that I'd find them…I swore it on her grave Sahid. I haven't kept my vow."_

"_You will…unless you give up."_

_Another head shake. "I won't do that…I…it just seems so hopeless at times. Where have I not looked? What am I not seeing?" He glanced up and his eyes were vacant, eroded by despair. "There must be some clue that I've missed; but…what!?" He threw his hands up in dismay. "I feel so blind, so lost…I won't give up…but I feel like I've run out of roads to tread upon."_

_Sahid sat down beside him. "We'll find a real Oracle; this must be a decoy—which means a genuine one is out there…otherwise, why go to the trouble to create a fake?"_

_Cassim nodded, but didn't speak. Sahid hooked an arm in his and hauled him to his feet. He then took that hand and placed it solidly on Cassim's shoulder, giving him a level stare until the other met his eyes._

"_I know you're discouraged," he earnestly said, "but I also know _you_. And if your boys are even half as stubborn as you, then they're still out there, somewhere—alive. We will find them; and we won't stop until we do…all right?"_

_Cassim nodded, looking like a school boy being encouraged after a dressing-down._

"_Don't give up Cassim; you know I won't let you."_

Mozenrath swallowed hard when he saw the glistening of tears in his father's dead-looking eyes; but he gaped when Cassim nodded, whispered something to Sahid about 'thanks' and 'being a true friend,' only to slowly take the false Oracle from him…and with a roaring yell, smashed it against the table with all the violence of a deranged lunatic and then turned the large, heavy table over with another yell—finally falling on Sahid's neck afterwards to sob brokenly.

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Mozenrath felt his knees give out from beneath him; he crumpled to the ground hearing the mirror fizzle into nothing—his concentration gone, ergo no longer able to sustain it.

He went numb all over; how, how had he missed _this?!_ All of the times Desdane had shown him Cassim he was—

Wait; he gulped hard.

He'd been such a complete and utter fool; _of course_ that was the answer!

Footsteps reminded him he wasn't alone. It was Aladdin who knelt down beside him, wrapping his toned arms around his slender frame.

"Desdane didn't let you see any of that, did he?" he asked, his tone bleak.

Mozenrath only shook his head; his thoughts, his senses, far too dazed to speak. Cassim knelt down in front of him, placing both large hands on his shoulders.

"Son," he softly said, resting his brow against Farid's, "I don't know what that horrible man did to you"—

Mozenrath flinched and shivered. Aladdin held him tighter—

-"I wish…I wish I had known, that I had been able to save you from all of that"—

Mozenrath let out a sound something between a laugh and a sob. "How?" he demanded, certain his eyes were glassy and unfocused but somehow not caring. He'd never really pictured the possibility before, of Cassim facing down Desdane, and for all the years he'd hated his father for not even trying…now that he had come to a place in his life where he actually wondered how such a confrontation would have played out…there was only one gruesome conclusion that unfolded in his mind's eye.

It was pathetic really, that it took him this long to realize such an obvious thing. "Desdane would have carved the flesh off your bones," he stonily countered, "slowly. And he would have used his magic to ensure you survived it…and that would have only been for starters; to amuse him."

He felt Aladdin's body wince against his. His eyes fell from Cassim to the landscaping.

"There was nothing you could have done," he hollowly pronounced, "even had you known."

Cassim reached out and tenderly caressed his face; Mozenrath tried to not look at his father's desolate, sickened expression, it brought back too many memories of what he wished had never taken place and all that he longed for now that would never be—magic or not.

"I'm so sorry son," Cassim whispered despondently, "I wish"—

Mozenrath gulped back a sob and vigorously shook his head; he didn't want to hear it, it was too much—

"Please…forgive me; I tried"—

Unimaginably high, terribly heavy, walls of agony closed in all around the wizard. He didn't want hear pleas for forgiveness, he didn't to see his father's misery, he didn't want to feel his brother holding him, trying to be comforting—

It was too much, he resolve fractured; he gasped for air as his throat closed, sealed shut by fierce, unrelenting emotions. He shuddered feverishly and tried to breathe…and then the elixir did it's work at last, bringing back a full, clear recollection of his father and brother saving him—and everything they said during and after his rescue.

He was sobbing and trembling uncontrollably before he could gather himself enough to teleport away.

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Mozenrath wasn't entirely certain when he had wept himself into utter exhaustion, only that a point came when he was able to breathe with less difficulty, and found himself laying in Aladdin's arms still, his one temple resting against his brother's chest as their father held his hands (the bone one too, he found), in one of his, stroking his curls with his free hand.

He only paid a shred of attention to how somber his father was looking at him; he tried to not notice that Cassim's eyes were red, which meant he'd been weeping also. He found it too strange though, Aladdin's silence. He'd never been around the 'hero' so long without being subjected to some dialogue about 'goodness' and 'right,' blah, blah, blah.

It was unnerving.

"Would you please _say_ something?" he asked, perhaps more sharply than he'd intended; but still….

Aladdin's body jostled a bit as he softly laughed. "Like what?" he asked in good humor.

"It's too bizarre; you're just sitting there, quiet."

"Well, we've never been in this situation before."

Oh, blast him, blast him, blast him!

Mozenrath sighed in annoyance. "Must you do that? That's even stranger."

"Do what?"

"Make sense; I'm not used to it."

They both jumped when Cassim laughed. "Now, this, this sounds more like old times," he said with a reminiscing sigh.

Weighty silence fell over them; Cassim's smile fell. He pursed his lips.

"Dad, what will happen now?" Aladdin asked his voice hesitant.

He ran his fingers through his eldest's curls again. "We'll be a family."

Mozenrath shook his head. "You make it sound so easy." His tone was flat.

Cassim squeezed his hands gently. "Anything worth doing is rarely easy, Son."

Another head shake. "You don't even know what I am, do you?"

"Son, your magic won't make—"

"No," Mozenrath interjected, elbowing Aladdin enough to get his attention, "you didn't tell him, did you?"

"Umm…."

"I thought not." His tone was resigned; dark eyes met Cassim's. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Be part of this."

Cassim's eyes hardened with determination and he gripped Mozenrath's hands enough that it hurt. The wizard made a sound of pain and Cassim loosened very, very slightly. "Farid, you're not deserting us, not after all of this; this will sound selfish…but I've been through too much to lose you again."

"Yeah," Aladdin agreed, "it wouldn't be right!"

Mozenrath sputtered. "Right? Right?!" He broke free of Aladdin just enough to twist his torso around to face him. "I'll tell you what's not right: this 'plan.'" Dark eyes bore into the street rat's. "I know what you both have in mind: we'll win the war like heroes always do, and then come back here amidst cheers and raining flowers and parades; be applauded by the sultan and all the kingdoms and then live here, happily ever after…as if nothing that happened _before_ ever took place!"

Cassim exhaled solemnly. "Farid, I know that…Desdane trained you in dark magic…but you can give that up; I've given up thieving, the sultan won't hold it against you, not after we win the war; we'll both have a fresh start."

"Not here," Mozenrath countered harshly. The palace guards, the citizens all came to mind; their cold, distrustful faces—he could still taste the potion in his mouth.

Reality, the taste of reality was sour indeed.

"Not for me," he affirmed, "I'd never be accepted here."

"Farid, this is your home!"

"I don't-!" he was going to say: 'have a home,' but the distraught look Cassim wore froze the words on his tongue.

"I can't stay here," he quietly said instead, "even if the sultan did pardon me."

"Don't worry dad," Aladdin put in, his voice disgustingly optimistic, "he'll come around in time."

Mozenrath sputtered again. "You would say that; why don't you tell father about my reputation here…and then tell us again about how great my chances are."

He felt more than saw Aladdin squirm uneasily.

"I thought as much," the wizard declared coldly. He looked up at Cassim's bemused expression and the thought impaled him that his father deserved to know exactly what sort of 'son' he was trying to persuade back into his life.

He sighed in acceptance. "Father," he began tentatively, "you don't know what I've done"—

"I don't care"—

"But I do!" Mozenrath shouted before he could stop himself. They all jumped, the wizard included, by the ferocity of his tone, but after he caught himself, he plunged forward before his nerve failed.

"I'm the Sorcerer of the Black Sand," he blurt out, "I wasn't some isolated no account wizard in some far corner of the Seven Deserts, I ruled a _kingdom _that was always _dark_"—

He saw something click in his father's eyes; probably about his sallow complexion he guessed—

"I had an army…of the undead; a sentinel force of _walking corpses_"—

It didn't surprise him when his father paled at that—

"I used dark magic, I tried to conquer Agrabah at least four times, I"—

He froze in shock when Cassim suddenly threw his arms around him.

"Son, Son," his father murmured against his hair, "I don't care what you've done; all that matters to me is that you're alive and that I've found both of you…finally. Everything else we can face together; we'll make it right…somehow."

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The Land of the Black Sand was deathly quiet that night. Monolithic clouds, taller and thicker than anything seen there in centuries, rolled ominously over the onyx skies, sending stray zephyrs of wind down to shift the dark dunes below. The only sound daring to pierce the silence was the rustling hisses of sands as they moved over the forbidding black hills.

Desdane observed his kingdom from the tallest tower of his Citadel. The menacing-sounding breeze dared to swish his elegant garnet robes and drawn hood, pulling at locks of his brownish hair.

Deadly eyes surveyed far beyond his own realm though.

His armies were ready, his allies duly cowed and prepared. Mirage, for all of her angst and mischief, would prove a valuable asset...even after they had achieved victory—though she didn't know that yet.

He inhaled a deep, satisfying breath. Now, he need only wait. For all the pieces were not yet in place.

And…while he enjoyed a victory as much as the next sorcerer-immortal…he wanted this one to be as sweet as possible. And so, time proved the crucial ingredient.

Like the finest wine, triumph tasted the most delectable when aged to perfection.

And so…he waited.

Desdane repressed a snicker, thinking of the 'allies' who had urged him to move immediately. Ah; the fools. They were so young by comparison, only a few centuries old. While Mirage seemed to glean insight into his true motives, the rest by far—Jafar most especially, believing power alone was all that mattered—just lacked the brilliance to understand.

Lacked the vision; lacked—

Well, _they_ simply _lacked_. Enough said.

But, Desdane had swallowed the galling bitterness of defeat once; he swore…never again.

From the doorway, a curvaceous figure glided towards him.

"Up late, my sweet?"

His lips twitched in a smirk. "Just contemplating our imminent conquest, pet."

Saleen smiled as she fluidly strode from the deep shadows to stand at his side. She reached up and entwined a lock of his hair around an ivory finger. "And here I thought you'd be exhausted after a long day of tormenting our forces by making them do nothing."

The glib remark made him grin. "And yet I didn't hear you object to the amusement."

She giggled naughtily. "Not hardly; I prefer to enjoy each course as it comes. Like dining: anticipation only makes it better."

He snickered at her comparison. When she threaded an arm through his, he drew up her hand to kiss it. "Believe me, there will be many courses for you to enjoy tomorrow; your patience will be well rewarded."

Saleen smiled eagerly. "Ohhh, I have no doubt of it."

"It will be; we have but to wait for one little piece to fit into place."

She nestled against his arm. "And what piece is that, my lord?"

His lips twisted in another grin. "My apprentice, of course."

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

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Aladdin wasn't certain if he should be heartened or wary of how his brother had reacted after their father convinced them both their pasts didn't matter to him.

"Son, I was the King of Thieves," he'd reasoned.

"And I'm a street rat who was accused of murdering the sultan," Aladdin had put in.

Farid didn't seem to be convinced at first, he and their father had wept on each other for a while after arguing whether or not Farid had any real chance of making a new life for himself; at length, Aladdin was cautiously optimistic that Farid might have accepted he, at least, had a chance.

Al let out a breath; it'd have to do for now.

His brother was dozing lightly in his arms as he and his dad talked about what they ought to do. Cassim wasn't convinced that Farid was well enough to take part in the war; Al was fully aware that Farid—Mozenrath—was never one to sit out a battle, at all.

Ever.

Part of him was stunned that he seemed to be taking this so much in stride. The logical part of him said he was insane for just accepting that Mozenrath (the evil sorcerer who tried to steal his body once) was in fact, his brother Farid all along.

The intuitive part of him said though, that on some level this shouldn't surprise him. That there had to be a reason why a young sorcerer traveled all the way from the Land of the Black Sand to Agrabah to find a 'hero' capable of fighting the Thurdac and instead of venturing to far nearer kingdoms, chose Agrabah. What had drawn Moznerath there?

Something told Aladdin that deep down, perhaps subconsciously, Mozenrath/Farid had remembered where he came from, and that knowing had pulled him back to his home and albeit both of them unaware, to his brother as well.

"We should let Sadira take a look at him," he quietly told their dad.

Cassim nodded. He helped Aladdin get up, still holding Farid, and both made for the palace.

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When Mozenrath came to, he was in his bed, Xerxes curled up beside him.

"Master better?" the eel asked, mismatched eyes filled with concern.

Mozenrath took a breath, his mind still reeling from the happenings of the last few hours. "Xerxes," he murmured in reply, "I don't know if 'better' is even possible at this point."

The eel looked dismayed, but Mozenrath patted his head comfortingly before forcing himself to sit up and take in the chamber.

His father sat on Aladdin's bed, that grave look still on his face. Mozenrath wondered why, until he realized he could taste a new potion in his mouth.

"What did she give me?" he inquired.

"Something that was supposed to make you sleep-for the rest of the night."

His father was asking a question. "Those potions rarely work on me," he explained.

His father nodded, clearly not happy about it, but accepting. "I'll get her"—

"No; not yet."

"Farid—"

Mozenrath grimaced. It'd take time, he reminded himself, to become used to that name.

It'd take time to grow used to this new life in general. He was about to stand, but that last thought forced him back to the bed.

He'd not really mulled over it; his past life…was it over? Truly? He still had Xerxes, true, but his kingdom was gone, most likely forever, and aside from his magic he had no real other remnants of that past existence.

Except his name; uncertainty contorted his stomach into knots again. He swallowed.

His name…surely by now everyone knew who he _really_ was. Who would still call him Mozenrath?

He doubted anyone would.

He became half aware of his father; he was now crouched before him, shaking him gently.

"Farid? Are you all right, Son?"

Was he all right? Was he?

Xerxes rubbed his head consolingly against his arm. "Master all right?"

He felt stronger; the worst part of his 'reunion' with his father and brother seemed to be past now. No one was trying to throw him into a dungeon or lop his head off. The war was coming…but for the first time, he felt a shred of, yes: hope. Hope that they might win; hope that his father and Aladdin's promises of a 'fresh start' were not totally vacant.

Hope the mouse might forgive him.

He numbly found himself nodding. "Where are the others?" he asked emotionlessly.

"Downstairs, speaking to the sultan; except Aladdin, he's flying back to his place," was the reply; his father turned and grimaced in disapproval. Of what? The hovel…or the rug perhaps?

"Why?"

"He said he was getting something for you."

Mozenrath was caught off guard by that. "Really? What?"

Cassim shrugged. "Your guess would be as good as mine, Son." He looked Mozenrath over with worry pinching his brow. "_Are_ you all right, Farid?"

Mozenrath winced. It felt so strange, to be called that name after so long. He couldn't even really remember a time when he wasn't called 'Mozenrath.' He repressed a sigh.

Whether they won or lost, nothing would ever be the way it was; ergo, his old life was well and truly over…including the name that went along with it. So…did he have any tangible reason to not just accept that?

It wasn't as though being 'Mozenrath' had been a worthwhile existence; far from more like. He'd been Mozenrath and hated nearly every moment of it…so, would it be so horrible to try and see what being 'Farid' was like instead?

Something constricted and rigid inside of him loosened, relaxed. He took a breath.

His old life was dead, he decided, ergo there was only one conclusion:

Mozenrath was dead.

Now he'd find out who Farid was.

He met Cassim's eyes.

"I'm all right," he said, blinking in surprise when he heard that he actually meant it, "why don't we surprise Aladdin by meeting him there."

"How?" Then Cassim looked alarmed. "Oh, Farid, please don't tell me you have one of those dreadful rugs too."

Farid couldn't repress the grin. "No; my way is less…mundane." His father blinked at that.

Farid glanced down at Xerxes. "Tell the mouse where we went?"

"Yes, master."

Without revealing anything more, Farid took his father's wrist and they were gone in a flash of blue light.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

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Aladdin hopped off Carpet and landed on the spot that served as his 'bed' when he slept here.

"It's okay Carpet," he told his friend who had gestured questioningly to him, " you'd better head back to the palace, in case Jaz needs you."

Carpet waved in a way that said she'd be fine with the others.

Al twisted his lips; he had a sneaking suspicion though….

Something like blue lightning illuminated his hovel, and an instant later it was gone—

Leaving his father and Farid standing in the room's center.

Ah; suspicions confirmed.

Al only shrugged when Carpet folded his 'arms' and tapped one 'foot' in chastisement.

"I…thought they might drop by."

Carpet only shook his 'head' before hopping back into the air and gesturing he'd head back to the palace after all.

And he was gone.

Al only gave his dad and brother a look. And while his father was grimly taking in his son's "place," Farid was making a point of not looking around them.

"It's just as charming as I remember, no doubt," he said dryly, as if reading Al's mind.

His father only finished his appraisal and sighed in acceptance.

"What's passed is passed," he said to no one in particular.

Al gave him a lopsided, but heartening grin before advancing for a spot in the floor just a few steps from where his dad and Farid stood.

Pulling up a loose stone from the floor, he fished out a large box and blew the dust off of it.

"Here, this is what I came for," he told them with a happy smile.

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**A/N: **Well, to Jessenia, ASJJohnson, Guest and everyone else who's been messaging me to hurry it up…I hope it was worth the wait! LOL; anyhow, thanks again for waiting. I was going to upload this on Sun, but the time got away from me (I had family stuff going on) and then Mon of course was the holiday, so here we are at Tues! Anyhow, please leave me a LONG review…as I've given you my longest chapter yet! And, thanks as always for reading. U all are epic, thanks for supporting me and this fic to chapter 99!


	100. Chapter 100: Not Forgotten

**A/N: **Hey all, I hope these two longer chapters ease the 'ugh' we're all currently stuck in till I get my laptop back. Enjoy! Onward….

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 100: Not Forgotten_

When Aladdin opened the dusty old box, Mozenrath jolted in surprise.

"My…my book," he whispered, "you kept it? Why?"

And indeed, sitting quite snug in the dark tan box was Farid's book of magic creatures.

Al shrugged as Cassim drew it out of the metal-rimmed box and opened it, with a sad smile on his face.

"It was all I had left of you," Al said, his voice tinged with grief, "I…thought…you never came back." He knelt back down to replace the box, but Farid caught the wetness in his eyes. He shrugged again. "After all those years, I just…accepted. I was going to read it to my own kids someday—if I ever had kids anyways."

Cassim smiled wider at that, but it fell when he turned the aged book over. Dark spots, bloodstains from long ago marred the cover of the leather-bound book.

Farid saw it and winced; that night came back to him in a rush.

_Being struck in the face by a dark shadow with crimson eyes. _

"_Come with me."_

"_No! Stay away from me!...Brother!"_

He was jarred back into the present by Cassim shaking him, repeating his name over and over.

Aladdin had risen, and was holding one of Farid's shoulders. "I…think I saw that night," he confessed after Farid nodded he was lucid again, "what happened to you."

"What?" their father said in restrained disbelief. "But…how?"

Farid instinctively knew the answer. "My magic," he supplied, "it could have…called out to you."

Aladdin tightened his grip, Farid thought to keep on his own feet. "I think so," he admitted, "it was like I was there; standing next to you…I wish…I wish I could have done something."

Farid gave him a deadpan look. "Like what?" But thought in the next moment he'd been too harsh; he flinched.

It didn't go unnoticed. "I know," was the dull reply, and Al walked away, flipping through the pages, "it's sad, when you think about it; some hero I am. All of those people I've saved. Why couldn't you have been one of them?"

Farid could feel Mozenrath's snark coming back to the fore. "Perhaps because you were three?"

Cassim nodded soberly. "He's right Aladdin; this won't help now."

Al absently nodded, still staring down at the page he'd turned to. "You know, I'd never thought about it before"—

Cassim gave Farid a warning look before more snark could come out. Farid only gave an innocent grin in response.

-"but, of all the magical beings you showed me that night, it was this one," and Aladdin turned the book to them so Farid and Cassim could both see.

Farid felt his stomach fall into his boots; he'd completely forgotten.

It was a genie.

He only moaned in dismay before face-palming. Al and Cassim looked at each other and chuckled. Cassim shook Farid's shoulder in a good-natured needling way before guiding him to the steps before the large 'window' so they could all sit down and talk.

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Al had initially hoped that once Mozenrath had accepted that he was in fact Farid, that 'recovering' would happen swift and easy.

Apparently, he'd never learn; his optimism always at the ready would not be swayed…for a while.

Well, 'a while' had come and gone and it was becoming painfully clear to Aladdin that his brother's 'mending,' (physical, mental and emotional) would be a long process.

He berated himself for being even a little surprised by that.

He and Farid sat on either side of Cassim, Farid was curled up against their father as they looked through his book together; Al had hoped that seeing the book would coax out memories and while a couple fleeting impressions had surfaced…it was depressingly less than Al had anticipated.

And so, Al told him what he remembered, Cassim filling in nearly all the blanks as Al had only been three at the time; and then Cassim had taken over, recalling birthdays, picnics by the river, a couple times they'd been on the boat traveling, and so on. Al watched discreetly as Farid's face looked weary but interested, the dark eyes betrayed he was eagerly absorbing it all.

Aladdin wanted to kick himself for not even suspecting Mozenrath might be his brother. While one side of him asked why for even a moment he'd consider that an arch-nemesis would be in fact, Farid, another part of him rebuked that he should have at least wondered.

Farid had a head of dark curls, likewise Mozenrath; Farid had been tall for his age and lanky, again the same with Mozenrath; Farid had been sharp-minded, clever and loved books, again no different than Mozenrath.

But, the dark eyes should have been the most defining of them all. Al had never seen eyes like Farid's (except for their mother of course), not until Mozenrath.

That should have jarred his memory; but it hadn't. He sighed. It was like their father said: what is passed is passed.

Nothing can be done about it now.

"Farid, what can we do to get your memories back?" he asked evenly.

"Nothing," was the blunt response.

Before Al could launch into a 'hero speech' as Iago would call it, Cassim held up a halting hand.

"Son, what exactly became of your memories? How did Desdane take them? What did he do with them?"

His tone was very gentle, but Farid cringed anyways, probably recalling those days again. Cassim held him consolingly, Al had risen to stretch his legs; he sat back down again.

When Farid plunged into the tale, Al tried to focus on details that would probably prove important. As Farid recounted in a hollow voice of the times he'd defied Desdane, and the punishment was the loss of memories…until the day came when Desdane had finally reached his limit and took 'all' of his memories in the hopes that it would "clean the slate" and make Farid more docile and submissive (Al grinned at the defiant flare in Farid's eyes at that part), Al tried to not feel sick at how emotionless his brother seemed while telling it.

He was detaching from it in order to cope, he realized.

Farid explained the magical process for extracting memories and when Cassim asked if Desdane destroyed them, Farid's shoulders slumped and he avowed that Desdane would consider that wasteful (intact memories made better leverage after all) and then turned the tale into an account of the relics Desdane had surely imprisoned them in…before sending them off into another world.

When Farid was done, silence reigned for several moments.

"You know we'll do our best to try and locate those relics, Son," Cassim promised with a reassuring squeeze of the shoulders.

"Of course," Al put in when Farid said nothing, "Genie can"—

Farid soberly shook his head. "Please, don't."

"Don't what?"

"Desdane will have placed them someplace only he can access…so your pet…your _genie _can do nothing." He sighed, in resignation Al thought. "It doesn't matter now," he said, more to himself than them, "I've searched everywhere conceivable, tried every magic known…nothing. Desdane can't be outdone by genie tricks…or me it would seem."

Al knew he was alluding to Desdane's return more than the memories.

The sound of the curtain jostling in the hovel's doorway caught their attention.

A shadowy figure pulled it aside, and Al pulled out his father's dagger reflexively.

"Really?" Sadira said as she came out of the shadows. "You think that would work?"

Al blinked. "S…Sadira? What are you-?"

"Fetching the three of you," was the answer, "sultan's asked us all to come together to; well, we need to talk out what's happening. According to the spies that returned"—

"Meaning some didn't," Cassim darkly put in.

Sadira nodded somberly. "Yes," she said with a centering breath, "most didn't. I…would have told sultan to not bother trying, except"—

"He didn't consult you," Farid guessed aloud. Sadira nodded, but Farid turned away when the sand witch gave him a searching look.

Al shuffled on his feet, wondering what exactly happened after Sadira had ushered his brother out of their father's room.

Sadira didn't appear hurt…but why did Farid look so guilty?

Cassim cleared his throat. "We should head back," he suggested.

"Go ahead Sadira," Al said, "we'll catch up."

She gave them a questioning expression, but at length nodded and vanished in a golden vortex.

Al whistled, and Carpet instantly appeared.

"Didn't think you'd go too far," Al declared with a grin. Carpet only gave an innocent 'who, me?' shrug and Al got on.

Farid and Cassim only leveled 'really?' stares at him.

"What? C'mon you two, get on."

Cassim sighed, Farid only shook his head.

"Son," Cassim said tolerantly, "it's a rug. You sweep dirt under it; you don't ride it."

Carpet folded his 'arms' indignantly.

"Daaaad," Al reproved, "you don't need to be afraid; Carpet's totally safe."

Cassim's mouth fell open indignantly; Farid saw and chuckled. "I'm not afraid," he countered, "now get off that thing before you break your neck!"

"Fine, I'll see you both at the palace then," Al remarked and flew off with Carpet wheeling in the air, performing corkscrew rolls and all sorts of tricks that would make a normal person sick.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

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Cassim glanced down at the book, then Farid. He closed it and stood, Farid soundlessly mimicking. He didn't miss the interesting way his son and the sand witch behaved around each other-or how his son had been stricken suddenly mute after her departure.

He caught Farid's gaze, then stared down at his book. A small smile touched his lips; Farid perked a little at seeing it.

"It seems we were not forgotten," he told his son. Farid's dark, enigmatic eyes fell on his childhood memento.

He didn't smile, but his eyes looked less haunted. "No, we weren't forgotten after all," he tonelessly agreed, but there were fewer shadows in his expression when he said it, so Cassim's hopes rose all the same.

His eldest uttered a word and they were gone.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

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Farid glanced around the sultan's private chamber, taking in the vast tables everywhere, filled with maps, models of the various kingdoms and areas where planning strategy were clearly carried out. He was too tired to smile at the ironic twist.

He'd ruled Agrabah himself long enough to know what usually filled this room: the sultan's nearly endless toy collection.

But now, the sultan and princess stood around the largest, center table, with himself, his father and brother, as well as Aladdin's hero brigade. The mouse was nowhere to be seen, and the parrot was flying around complaining about the lack of snacks—grapes in particular.

He would have ignored it…except that it got Xerxes going too.

He sighed and waved a hand; one of the tables became overladen with glistening, ripe grapes; both purple and red.

"Finally!" Iago cheered before flopping into an enormous pile of them. Xerxes licked his chops and to Farid's amazement, didn't want to dive into the same overflowing bowl as the bird.

He let out a centering breath as the sounds of ravenous animals satiating their stomachs filled the chamber.

At length, the far door creaked open and the mouse entered. Farid's breath caught.

Her arms were filled with the satchel, the runes…and the two books he and she had retrieved together from the Old Palace.

No, not yet; he wasn't ready for everyone to know. The room began to spin….

Thunk! He was rattled back to the present by the mouse losing her balance and her burden toppled out of her thin arms. But, she quickly threw him a meaningful look before crouching down to retrieve the items.

Comprehension clicked. She did it purposely to delay; she wanted to talk to him.

He rushed over to her; he didn't see Aladdin hurry to help as well only to be stopped by their father.

He got on his knees across from her and gathered up the runes and such.

"I told you I have to tell them," he whispered.

He heard conversation start behind him; he paid it no mind.

"Uh-huh," the mouse murmured in reply, "turn around and _look at them_; then tell me you're ready to do that."

He bristled; he ached to do exactly that, just to prove her wrong—

But his insides were too busy ripping themselves apart at the thought of it. He flinched, recoiling into himself.

No; she was right, he wasn't ready for that much openness. As much as he wanted to be, longed to be…he couldn't. It was all too fresh, too agonizingly vivid still, in his mind.

It had been hard enough to take in their wrong-footed expressions after he'd entered the chamber with his father, realizing at once that they all already knew.

Blast that big-mouthed Oracle!

He grimaced at her sympathetic expression. "I can be objective," she quietly reminded him, "and that's what we need right now: objectivity. You've studied military strategy I'm sure; you know I'm right."

He bit his lip hard, half surprised he didn't taste blood, and nodded, not looking at her. He hated this; this, show of…_weakness_.

It felt awful. Anger felt better; it was…safer.

Except; he wasn't so certain about _that_ anymore either.

Cursed, wretched, infernal emotions! But no, he didn't mean that either, not really, not anymore.

Her hand brushed his, her expression asking him if he really wanted to stay.

And telling him it was all right if he didn't.

She truly was too good to be true; a pit formed in his stomach when a little voice reminded him he didn't deserve her, not even remotely.

He nodded. His brother and father were in for the shock of their lives—as if _he_ hadn't supplied that already.

But, he took her hand as she made to stand up. He had to say it, while the chance was open. "I'm sorry," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, making certain to look her in the eyes when he said it, "for…before."

Her already gentle expression softened more…their eyes remained locked for far too long…Farid was pretty sure he'd forgotten how to breathe several hours ago.

She had such deep, enthralling eyes….

"Hey!" the parrot broke in, "While we're young please!"

A huge monolith of grapes appeared over the parrot, falling on top of him and he landed with a purple 'splat!' on the marble flooring.

"Agh! Ironic retaliation is the genie's department!"

Genie only sighed. "Oh, forget it bird-boy," he mock drawled, "I'm already being replaced by Sadira, I guess the other residential magician was only a matter of time."

In spite of the weightiness of the moment, as the sand witch and sorcerer rose, Farid leaned closer to Sadira and snarked: "Why did I ever want to conquer _this_ kingdom again?"

He was caught off guard by her naughty grin. "Why, because _I _live here, of course," she whispered in return.

Her grin only widened as he felt his cheeks warm.

As they moved to join the others, he told himself she only said that to get his mind off of what was coming.

There couldn't possibly be an ulterior reason.

She couldn't have _meant_ that, certainly.

No, it was only to distract him.

He swallowed hard as he set the runes and satchel down on the table they'd all gathered around, as Genie poofed Iago free of his grape prison, Xerxes hovering over him, chuckling and jeering him mercilessly.

He repressed a cringe when it hit him everyone was doing a horrid job of pretending to not notice how long they'd taken to collect the 'dropped' items…and that tiny smile his father wore whenever he glanced in Farid's direction.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

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The sand mouse, once everything was set out, began with a brief rendition of her and Mozenrath's journey into the Old Palace and what transpired there. Farid listened, noting how she omitted certain things—like when they fell on top of each other, most of their conversations and such, keeping the story pertinent only to their eventual discovery: the two books and runes.

She covered their encounter with Karonon, as well as the Sand Hydra, again, leaving out much, but eventually brought the tale to their collecting the items, returning to Agrabah and summarized the translation process thereafter.

She left out most of her and Mozenrath's conversations again, keeping the topic strictly centered on the translation dynamics.

Around the large table were three azure and ivory couches. On the one far right of the mouse was Cassim, with his sons on either side and the princess on Al's other side; the center had sultan, the genie with the monkey and parrot, the rug hovering behind them; Rajah between the couches at the princess's feet the final couch had the El' Khatib and the Mukhtar; Xerxes was curled up on Farid's lap.

Farid made a point of not acknowledging the worried glances the mouse chanced at him every so often as she relayed their finds. He kept his face neutral and forced his body to be still.

It didn't help though that his far-too-perceptive-father was also glimpsing at him out of his peripherals no doubt already picking up that this was somehow related to him.

His stomach wrenched guiltily. Perhaps he should stop her now and insist that he tell his father and brother in private; rather than they hear it along with the rest of the group.

But no; it would be such a shock and at least this way they'll have a ring of friends around to offer far better support than he could ever give.

He swallowed as she came to the all-important part: Desdane's arrival at the Land of the Black Sand…with his apprentice.

She described how Desdane slaughtered the mage-king and cursed the land, turning the sand and sky perpetually dark; how he turned the citizens (those he didn't kill) into the undead. But, after the millennia of warring, how Lady Talshieda made the fateful pact with the Imperial Queen, only to betray both sides and destroy them all…or so everyone thought.

"But, Desdane survived," Aladdin put in.

"Yes," Sadira clarified, "but he wasn't the only one. Mirage, as we all know, lived too, probably because she wasn't there…and one other person survived."

Farid winced and wanted to curl up into a tight ball, but kept himself flawlessly rigid.

"One other survived," the mage went on, and Farid was too busy studying the floor to see her concerned face, "…the…Lady Talshieda."

"What?" the princess exclaimed. "But…how? Didn't the extreme relics-?"

"No," Farid answered for the mouse, his voice dead and hard at the same time. He didn't notice everyone turn to look at him; he didn't care.

"She lived because she was immortal," the wizard sharply went on and didn't react when his father whispered his name, clearly worried and put his hands on his upper arms. "Desdane gave her immortality; it was connected to her magic; so long as she had _magic_…she lived on. He…has the power to accomplish that"—he shuddered and rose—"she...wanted in the end…," he gulped hard, finding he couldn't stand another moment and broke from his father before rushing from the chamber.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

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Aladdin leapt to his feet when Farid fled the chamber to go after him.

He didn't know what was wrong, but it didn't matter. But, he didn't even manage three steps before his dad put an arm out to block him.

But, it was Sadira who spoke: "Aladdin, don't."

"But"—

"No," the sand witch emphasized, "it's really for the best that he not be here for this part."

"So, that's what you were talking to him about," Jaz deduced, also rising.

Sadira made a bad attempt at looking sheepish. "I tried to talk him out of it, but…he insisted, he even wanted at first to tell you all himself."

"Tell us what?" Al helplessly questioned. None of this made any sense!

Why did Farid flee like that?

"Al," Genie prompted, gesturing for him to sit back down.

They all did, and Sadira collected one of the books from behind her.

"This," she said soberly, "is the Chronicles of Queens. The last entry is by the Chronicler herself. She was fatally wounded in the final battle; the one ending with a blast powerful enough to eradicate the sand witch Empire, plus all of Desdane's forces…but she figured out why Talshieda had betrayed them."

"Why?" Jaz asked, bewildered.

"Because she had come to the conclusion that both sides were tainted; both sides were evil beyond redemption. The Empire's younger witches had come to see that, which is why the factions had broken out, but the older witches were set in their corrupt ways, they could no longer see the desert for the dunes. Talshieda though, never had contact with the younger witches and so she didn't know about the factions, aside from the spies' rumors of course."

"But, how do you know _she_ survived?" Al pressed.

Sadira let out a resigning breath. "Because, the Chronicler drew an engraving of her after their first meeting; it was here, in the book." She turned to the page, but held the book to her body, Al felt a cringe of trepidation at the grave look she gave him and his dad.

"I'm going to warn you," she said, her tone pitying and bleak, "you're going to be more shocked than you've been in your whole lives."

With that, she turned the book so the pages (and engraving) faced them.

Al felt his mouth fall open; beside him his father gasped in absolute shock and jumped to his feet.

"M…Mom," Al whispered.

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Sadira felt her arms turn heavier than stone at the expressions on Aladdin's and his dad's faces.

It was horrible; their shock, their bafflement—the pain and dismay they wore.

She felt the tears build; but no, she couldn't cry, not even out of sympathy. Somewhere, Mozenrath—Farid she'd learned—was no doubt falling apart.

It was now that she had to be strong.

"Mom," Al whispered again, leaning forward to touch the picture of her. Sadira could see in his eyes, Al was matching his mother's eyes, lips, and hair to Mozenrath.

Beside him, his father looked nothing short of devastated. "Bashirah," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "why didn't you _tell _me?"

It was like hearing that set off Aladdin somehow. He shot to his feet and was out of the room before anyone could react. Cassim tried to intercept him again, but missed this time by a hair.

He opened his mouth to call after him, but at the last minute seemed to think better of it. Instead, he turned around and gazed at the picture again, before setting his eyes on…Mukhtar.

"Tell me what you know," he flatly told the immortal.

And Mukhtar did.

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Jaz had almost forgotten that Mukhtar had actually been there when the final war closed. He revealed to Cassim what he knew about Lady Talshieda, both rumor and fact.

The fact was she had been a very powerful sorceress, far beyond what most aspire to, much less attain. She, at the end, was nearly Desdane's equal, which had never been heard of in magical history; most tomes hailed Desdane as the most powerful sorcerer ever, only his latest apprentice showed any glimmer of potential to match him—at least since Talshieda.

But, rumor said that Desdane had a fondness for beauty and from the engraving, Jaz could see that Talshieda was great beauty. Rumor hinted further that he gave her immortality for more than just professional reasons. Cassim bristled at that, but Mukhtar bluntly reminded him that he asked for "what he knew" and that implied 'everything.'

Cassim only wore a stony, resolved expression and nodded, asking him to continue.

Mukhtar concluded with essentially what Sadira had said: that upon arriving at the Land of the Black Sand, Talshieda had come to realize that her master was insurmountably evil, and resolved to destroy him; however, while rumor said she had initially held out hope that the Empire had honorable mages who would help her…she found no trace of any goodness in them either.

The remnants of mages still retaining any goodness had been miniscule indeed then, Jaz deduced.

Ergo, Talshieda concluded that both sides had to be stopped.

And with her monolithic powers, she had the unique ability to tamper with the extreme relics of both sides so subtly; neither knew it until it was too late.

Cassim sighed, having listened to the tale while his eyes remained fixated on the engraving. He shook his head. "And even after Farid was taken, she never told me."

"Perhaps becaussse," Mukhtar suggested, "she was planning to ressscue him herself."

Cassim stilled at that. "But she let me go."

"Yes; no doubt to keep you safe—from Desssdane -while in a far off land."

"She could have intended to leave Aladdin with the neighbors, then," Cassim mused aloud.

Mukhtar nodded. "That would be my thought, were I her. Leave the younger one with alliesss; go to Desssdane and ressscue my other offspring; return home with him before you knew anything or could endanger yourssself."

Cassim rubbed his brow as Sadira closed the book and set it down.

"But the neighbors said she became suddenly ill with fever," Cassim remarked.

Mukhtar nodded somberly. "A magic-draining fever."

Cassim riveted to him. "Is that what it was?"

Another nod. "Courtesssy of Desssdane; punishment for her betrayal, I am sssure. He would craft the dissspatchment to equal the crime—"

Cassim caught how Mukhtar had suddenly cut himself off. "Meaning?" he darkly prompted.

Mukhtar gave him a level stare, clearly asking if he really wanted to know. Cassim's face became threatening so Mukhtar sighed and said: "Meaning: she sssuffered unimaginably, to be certain."

Cassim swallowed hard. "I see," he whispered, staring despairingly at the floor, his pallor sallow; he looked ready to be sick.

Jaz rose, about to end this, for all they were learning, it was clearly tormenting Al's father more than he could take; but her own father acted first. He hopped from the sofa and hurried to Cassim, taking his arm consolingly.

"My dear boy," he began, "as a man who buried two wives, I think I can tell you I understand how horrible this is; but," he took a steadying breath, "this sort of talk won't bring her back…nor will it help your boys now."

Cassim said nothing, but dejectedly nodded. Sultan turned to the rest of them.

"As hard as it may be, I suggest you all try to rest some. Dawn is in just a few hours and we have no idea what tomorrow might bring."

He said a quiet thanks to Sadira for her hard work and research, glanced a worried look towards the door where Al and Farid had both vanished.

Cassim seemed lost in his thoughts for a few moments, before taking in the door as well and making for it.

"Wait," Sadira suddenly said, "I'll go too." She grinned at Cassim's firm: 'I'm their father look.'

"I've a pretty good idea of where they went," she countered, and added dryly: "unless you prefer to take Carpet instead."

Carpet only folded his 'arms' and flew off, apparently offended about something. Cassim only looked in the direction Carpet had disappeared off for a moment before sighing.

"All right," he said to Sadira's grinning face, "let's go."

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When Carpet found Aladdin, he was in the gardens, calling Farid's name. A quick sweep once on Carpet determined that Farid was not in the palace.

Al sighed; so he had left the palace…but to go where?

And then it hit him.

He found Farid crumpled in a corner of Al's hovel a few minutes later.

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**A/N: **Hey all; I hope these two chapters make up for the long wait. I hope to have my laptop back in a few weeks…but like I said before, no real internet connection aside from my phone, which does get , but it's a nightmare of slow inadequacy. So…plz bear with me on this no-wifi odyssey I'm currently on. Ugh; like Odysseus, I hope to reach 'home' soon. Thx and plz enjoy. Leave a review, k? It'll make this a little more bearable for me!


	101. Chapter 101: Secrets Unearthed

**A/N: **Hello all! Enjoy! Plz leave a review. Onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 101: Secrets Unearthed_

Farid was curled up in the corner he, Aladdin and their father had been talking not an hour before.

Al pursed his lips in worry, and quietly whispered for Carpet to let them have some time to themselves; even without features or an actual face, Carpet's posture and gestures revealed that he was concerned too; and flew off with a gesture that he'd give them time and privacy.

"Thanks Carpet," Al murmured before making way to his brother.

Farid was motionless and didn't react to their presence, though to Al there was no question of his being aware of them. Farid was leaning with his left side against the chipped and crumbling clay-brick wall; Al knelt down beside him.

"Farid," he softly said, taking his brother's wrapped hand.

His brother didn't move; didn't turn to acknowledge him, but he did speak.

"It makes sense, at last at least," he muttered hollowly.

"It does," was the somber reply.

"Why out of everyone in the world, he came after me." He still didn't move, but kept himself turned away from Aladdin.

Al sighed in resignation. "You inherited mom's power."

An emotionless chuckle. "Lucky me."

"Farid," Al exhaled, preparing himself. Some part of him dreaded asking, but the rest of him dreaded living the rest of his life without knowing. "Did you…did Desdane ever hint at why he took you? Did he…ever tell you about mom—even a clue?"

Farid reflexively clenched Al's hand while he shuddered; Al got his answer.

His brother elaborated anyways. He nodded; still not turning. "Y…yes. Did you ever wonder why always covered my head?"

Al shrugged. "I just assumed it was because of your rank. But, you did mention that before."

Farid nodded. "He never linked the two; but…I wondered. He hated looking at me; I know why now."

"You look like mom."

Farid nodded. "He…"—Al winced when he shivered again and swallowed hard—"made me watch her die."

Al's mouth fell open. "What!?"

Farid recoiled more on himself. "I saw it. When…you were there, crying…and the fever…took her."

Al swallowed hard, frozen, his mind grappling with this revelation. He recalled that moment; he was in their home, father was gone, seeking Farid; neighbors had come to look after their mother, but even the best kingdom healers could do nothing but make her a little comfortable.

Their mother had been weeping brokenly, as if seeing something that none of them could…it hit Al then that she probably was; she'd been sobbing…begging Farid for forgiveness.

"You could see her," Al breathed in shock as it came together, "and she could see you."

Farid made a choking sound; nodded. "He made certain of it. I," he gulped back a sob, "never understood why she was saying in the end she was sorry…Desdane never explained why." He shivered and his voice suddenly hardened. "My understanding didn't matter to him; only seeing us both suffer…he found it _amusing_."

"That's…that's," Al couldn't think of a word horrible enough to describe it.

"He made sure she knew, before she died," Farid bit out, his tone anguished, "I was her replacement," he trembled again, but Al discerned it was out of anger this time. "He made certain I'd realize that someday, but he ensured _she_ knew it before he killed her."

"We will stop him, Farid," Al grimly promised. "He won't get away with any of this."

Another empty chuckle. "Oh, I know he won't."

His dark tone made Al pause. "You can't fight him alone, Farid."

"Why not? I've done it before."

"And you wound up in the dungeon, torn apart"—

Farid tensed, but said nothing.

-"you won't face him alone; not this time. You don't _need_ to."

He took Farid's shoulders, gently pulled him from the wall. His brother's pallor was ashen; his dark eyes ravaged by all of the horrors Al realized he still didn't know the full of. But somehow, his expression was stony and unwavering in a way that told Al Mozenrath was still in there; the wizard-lord hadn't completely left his brother.

"Farid, you're the one that told us Desdane is tricky and devious."

Farid only nodded.

"Do you think he hasn't already thought of this? That he hasn't expected you to react exactly like you are? He'll be ready for you; we have to out think him."

Something humored flicked across those dark eyes that made Al twist his lips. "I know, I know," he drawled, looking away and then back, "and since you're supposed to be so much better at that than I am"—

"I am," was the flat interjection.

Al gave him a look. "Then do it: outthink him. What will Desdane not expect?"

Farid blinked, apparently not expecting Aladdin to just throw the topic at him; but then his gaze fell to the floor, looking thoughtful.

"He won't have expected you and the sultan to rally all of the kingdoms as you did," he mused aloud, "but…I'm sure he knows about it by now."

"Will he have had time to prepare for that?"

Al's hopefulness crumbled at Farid's dour nod. "He lost to mother," was the serious reply, "he'll do whatever it takes to not lose to her family—_whatever_ it takes."

Al gulped at the implications. "Extreme relics?"

Farid sighed. "You saw the Armory for yourself. And…that wasn't even all he has."

Al gaped. "No?"

A head shake. "No. He has _many more_—concealed in vaults in other worlds."

Al felt the color drain out of his face. "What…what do we do?"

Farid exhaled, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. "We need to pull the rug from beneath him."

"How?"

"Well, we can't target the relics; he'll anticipate that…it's what mother did after all. No; there is…," something lit in his eyes, and Al's breath caught, hope resurging.

Farid's eyes narrowed as what must have been a plan came together in his thoughts. "There is another way; something he'd never see coming."

"What?"

Farid grinned. "No."

"'No' what?"

"I'm not telling you."

"What!? Why not?"

"Because," Farid's gaze was flicking back and forth in a way that could only mean he was wordlessly working out the details. "The fewer people who know, the better."

Al straightened as his temper rose. "I already told you you're not doing this by yourself. That's also what mother tried."

Farid looked at what Al was sure was a wilting look, but he didn't care. Farid's lips parted; clearly thrown.

"You've…I've never seen you so angry before," he admitted quietly.

"That's because I am," Al ground out, "you forget: I was the one who buried mom; not dad."

Farid flinched guiltily.

"Yeah, Dad was gone, looking for you, I was the only one left—I wasn't even five, but I had to lay her to rest; yes, the neighbors helped, they did a lot of the work but you and Dad still weren't here. Do you seriously think I'm going to put you in the ground too? Especially when I couldn't do _anything_ to help you last time-except watch; but I can this time?"

Farid looked away, fidgeting nervously. After a moment, he met Al's gaze again. "How can you take this so in stride?" he asked, his tone muted and baffled. "I'm the psychotic wizard one kingdom over that tried to steal your body and take over your home…but the instant you find out I'm your brother…it's like you can't wait to forget all of that and pick up where we left off."

Al grinned. "Well, I won't deny it is…kind of weird"—

Farid raised his brows in an "only 'kind of weird'" look.

-"but I guess it's easier because I know you're getting the better end of the deal here."

It took Farid less than a second to snatch a pillow at his feet and whack Al over the head with it.

Al toppled over, laughing and Farid hit him again.

"_You're_ getting the better end of this? I'll tell you what you're getting the 'better end of,'" and he smacked Al with the pillow a couple more times before Al grabbed the other end of it and tried to tug it away.

"Oh, come on Farid, admit it," Al teased, "you're the bad guy one day and the next you're the 'hero's' brother; people will look at you in a whole new light for that alone."

Al was caught off guard by Farid's blinking at that and pausing to think it over.

"Wow, you're actually right," he said in wonderment, then snickered, "for a change"—

Al rolled his eyes.

-"when everyone finds out I'm _your_ brother…instead of despising me…they'll _pity _me."

He burst out laughing at Al's 'hey!' and pushing him down against the rugs he'd been sitting on.

"Well, I guess on the upside," Farid tossed back, "Agrabah will at least worry less knowing when you swan dive into a creature's mouth you'll have a wizard brother who can ensure you don't get eaten."

Al rolled his eyes.

"I mean, if you got eaten, the monster would probably become ill, and in its delirium go on a rampage—all because of _you_."

Al grabbed another free pillow and whacked him over and over as Farid laughed over his offended, incredulous face.

"I've saved Agrabah more times than I can count!"

That remark only made him laugh harder; when Al figured out why, he hit him again.

"That's not what I meant Farid!"

"I know," Farid countered, half-blocking the 'raining blows' through sputters of humor, "and that made it all the better!"

"Ugh! I'm going to have Genie turn you into something that can't make fun of me!"

"Oh, I'd find a way," Farid taunted, grabbing the pillow and turning it into smoke; Al retaliated by seizing his and that one turned into dust. Farid gave him a provoking grin. "Your pet genie doesn't know more tricks than me…immortal or not."

Al sputtered. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Farid only shrugged. "Fine; if you want to _hide _behind your genie, I won't stop you."

He chuckled at Al's reddened face. "Uh huh, says the one who has magic."

Al stopped at the shadow the passed over Farid's face. All the mocking and mischief left his countenance and something…fearful replaced it.

"Farid?" Al cringed in dread without intended to. "What is it?"

"I…," Farid looked away, his face torn, "I don't even know if I _should_ tell you"—

"Tell me what?"

Farid chewed on his lip. "When the battle starts, you can't go anywhere near Desdane."

"Why not?" Al waved. "Look, I've fought sorcerers before, remember? Jafar, Mirage… _you_. I'll be all right." Then epiphany struck: Farid wasn't planning to duel Desdane alone out of a need to avenge their mother…there was another reason—

It was to protect Aladdin.

"You're afraid," Al breathed, and Farid's gaze riveted to him from the floor. "You really think…you're afraid he'll kill me."

"Or worse," Farid quietly admitted. "He can do worse than just death."

Al had never thought of death as 'just death' before; the implications made him shiver in a sudden chill. "Why? Why are you convinced I'll be done for?"

Farid swallowed. "I know why…why you won all of those battles." He surprised Al by smiling in a self-depreciating way. "I used to think it was just 'hero's luck' or your pet genie…but it came to me, tonight, suddenly, the real reason."

Al's brow pinched. "The real reason?"

"And…if I figured it out…Desdane might have too."

"And he'll be able to use it against me?"

"If anyone can."

A pit formed in Al's stomach. "And…this 'real reason' is?"

Farid bit his lip, hard; Al reached out but Farid looked away.

"I…," Farid cut himself off, shaking his head, "I shouldn't tell you; if I'm wrong and Desdane doesn't know yet…telling you might do more harm than good."

Al's shoulders dropped in angst. "Farid"—but he stopped short, hearing the drape in his doorway move.

It must be their father. Al sighed in relief and turned, seeing Farid shiver in his peripherals. He put a hand on his brother's flesh hand, wondering briefly why it felt so cold.

He turned to the doorway. "Dad; could you"—his breath caught.

Because it wasn't there father…it was Desdane.

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**A/N: **Ah, what would one of my chapters be w/o a cliffy, right? LOL; anyhow, I hope THREE chapters makes up for the wait, kiddos Plz leave LOOOOOONG reviews, k? You're all awesome. Till next time; I'll try to update sometime next week, probably Fri or Sat, so please bear with me till then, k? I've got a LOT of homework to do this week and early next.


	102. Chapter 102: Mages of the Sand

**A/N: **Hello all; well, I hope you're enjoying the previous chapters. Again, my thanks for being patient while I'm bereft, per se of regular internet. It's interesting working trips to the library for uploading into my life at present; so it means a lot to me that you're bearing with me while I get this ironed out. My laptop has been going almost a week, so hopefully in 1-3 more weeks (hopefully 1!) I'll get some sort of resolution Anyways, things are happening! A lot of you have been asking what Desdane has been up to all this while; never fear, he's been waiting and plotting…and now, he's back! I take it back: you should fear, LOL. Anyhow, let's get a move on…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 102: Mages of the Sand _

Aladdin barely had time to gasp before Desdane raised a thin arm and blood-colored fire shot at him from the mage's hand.

Farid dived in the way, pushing Aladdin clear and taking the hit in his place.

He yelled as the blast slammed him hard into the far wall.

"Farid!" Aladdin exclaimed, before invisible talons seized him.

He struggled with unseen forces as they yanked him off the floor by his tunic and shoulders.

"Well," Desdane smoothly began, striding casually towards him until they were but an arm's length apart, "the 'fabled' hero of Agrabah; we meet again."

"You can't have my brother," Aladdin forced out while still writhing against the magic holding him fast.

Desdane only laughed. "Fool boy; don't you know? He's already mine."

Before Aladdin could retort, sapphire flames shot out from behind him and to his side catapulting into Desdane and sending the wizard flying. Another blast of flame around Aladdin liberated him from the older wizard's magic.

He landed neatly and spun around to Farid. His brother rose, baring his teeth in pain from the crumpled heap he'd made on the floor.

"Are you all right?" Aladdin asked.

"No, not until you're gone," Farid said as he straightened. He aimed an open hand at Aladdin; Al stepped back.

"No, I told you: you're not doing this alone."

"I'm not giving you a choice in the matter."

Scarlet flames erupted violently all around them. They both shouted in surprise and Farid yanked Al roughly by the shirt, pulling the other behind him. Al drew out his dagger as soft chuckling flitted to them over the sound of roaring flames.

"Interesting word choice," Desdane remarked as he drew out of the shadows along the room's perimeter, "it seems, apprentice, you and I share the same mindset."

Al grabbed Farid's shoulder. "Farid, he's baiting you; don't fall for it."

A thin smiled formed on the other's lips. "Falling; what a novel idea."

And with a word, the half of the building Desdane stood upon collapsed with the loud crashing of rocks and brick.

Al coughed as the dust cleared and looked to where half of the structure was no more; only a large pile of rock and rubble below them, mostly obscured by the night.

Aladdin looked for Desdane.

He wasn't hard to find.

He was exactly where he stood before…now only standing with a smirk on thin air.

Al gawked; Farid seethed.

Desdane tutted. "Now, now; my faithless apprentice, surely you know even with all of your 'advancement,' your power is still far from matching my own. You're only delaying the inevitable."

Farid only snarled at his taunting voice before gesturing with another command.

Al was propelled backwards when howling winds, terrible enough to fuel a monolithic sandstorm, fell from the sky, crashing into Desdane; another shout from the younger wizard lit the wind on fire.

It centralized around the older wizard, tearing and slashing viciously at him; stray blasts of wind struck the buildings around them, gouging out chucks of rock and launching them into the streets below. Al squinted through the gales to ensure there were no people around, but at the late hour, the dirt streets were deserted.

Thank goodness.

Farid guided the terrible inferno with gestures and words, his enraged voice carrying even over the deafening wails of the wind storm. Al covered his ears and looked for Desdane.

The older wizard couldn't be seen within the horrific magic Farid unleashed on him.

"Farid! " Al yelled. "Farid, stop! He's gone!"

Farid wasn't listening. Al pulled himself to his feet, even as the storm tried to send him flying into the nearest wall; he grabbed Farid by the shoulders and threw him to the ground.

His concentration broken, Farid's storm crackled with power before dissipating.

Farid reeled on him even as they lay sprawled on the floor side by side. "Why did you do that!?" he screamed.

"He's gone!" Al returned. "You were wasting your magic for nothing."

Insidious chuckling from above them froze Al cold.

He peered up. Desdane was unmoved.

Al's breath caught. Not only was he still there, not only had the leviathan storm not budged him an inch…it hadn't even touched him.

His robes were unruffled, even his hair was still neat and in place.

"Desdane was hiding himself in the storm," Farid bit out; "I kept on because I could still _sense him_."

Al's stomach fell.

Desdane laughed, and sneered down at Aladdin. "Fool boy; it truly was no lack of skill on your part, was it, that you won all those times past?"

Al's insides twisted at how sick Farid suddenly looked. Desdane saw it and nodded, smiling frigidly. "Oh, yes, faithless pupil, your pathetic brother's secret is no secret…not to _me_."

Blue flame rippled over Farid's hands. "You'll have to get through me," he threatened, his eyes suddenly so hard Al recoiled without thinking.

Desdane only snickered in amusement and waved lazily. Greenish, oozing mist formed all around them; Al snatched Farid's robe and pulled him away, Farid shouted what were surely counter-spells at it, blue mist formed and both mists seemed to grow tendrils, and warped limbs of eerie shapes and grappled at each other.

Al shuddered at the ominous, creepy hissing sounds the mists made at each other as they writhed in battle.

"Get out," Farid told him.

"What is that mist?"

"Never mind; it's only dangerous to"—

And the emerald mist suddenly wound a huge limb around the blue and bombarded Farid, covering him completely before he could react.

"Farid!"

Al caught him as Farid grabbed his throat and buckled over.

Desdane snickered as Farid coughed and choked.

Al watched in horror as the vile mist faded; but Farid's alabaster skin was now tinged green, as though his body as absorbed it.

Al gulped; perhaps it had. He lividly veered his gaze up to Desdane. "What did you do to him?" he demanded, now kneeling on the floor holding his brother.

Desdane regally descended invisible steps, landing on the crumbled flooring Al was sitting on. Al brandished the dagger. "Don't come any closer."

Desdane only folded his hands indifferently. "Little fool; what do you think that puny blade will do against _me?_ I was ancient before you were born-before your great-grandsire was born even."

Al repressed the cringe of dread. _Where was Genie!?_

"However," Desdane went on, his tone once menacing was now musing, "it would be a shame to damage you; you are of keen interest to me, anomaly that you are."

Al's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, think of it boy," Desdane returned coolly, "in all the annals of history, magic has only been outdone by greater magic…until you."

Al blinked at that.

"Mages are either slain or otherwise defeated only by greater mages…or relics. But, you; you arrive and slay Jafar…without your genie, without magic," he grinned mirthlessly, like a skull and Al couldn't hold back the shudder, "or…so all believed."

"What?" Al retorted incredulously, "I don't have magic."

Desdane said nothing, only regarded him with magisterial eyes, and gestured. Al was pulled away from Farid until he was pinned against the far wall a few feet away. He yelled and struggled as Farid lay vulnerable on the floor, totally unconscious; Desdane smiled down at him and with a tiny wave, Farid floated from the dark brown floor until his body was diagonal to Desdane's, his feet still only an inch from the floor.

Desdane let a long finger slide thoughtfully down Farid's pale, greened face and Al yelled a threat, which only made Desdane snicker.

"Fear not, little one," the older sorcerer told him, his eyes still resting on Farid, "I'll not kill him. Your mother after all, swore an eternal bind to me…which she broke." Rage filled, glacial eyes impaled Aladdin and he shivered in spite of himself. "And as the little rat broke her oath to me…I'll take recompense-from her child."

Al grunted as he pulled against the unseen shackles. "Farid will never willingly serve you!"

Desdane's polar eyes glinted with humor at that. "'Willingly' was never a concern to me, boy. I mixed my blood with his; he is mine, for all time. And neither you nor your useless sire will be able to free him from me, ever."

"And what if it's someone else?" a female voice snarled.

Just as Desdane veered behind him to make out the newcomer, the rubble below them formed into a gargantuan hand, which rose and smacked Desdane out of the sky.

With an enraged yell, he plummeted to the streets below, rolling onto his stomach. His teeth barred in raw fury.

"Who dares!?" he challenged the tall shadows along the street.

In the near distance, perhaps twenty paces away, a slender shadow detached from the others and advanced.

Desdane growled as a familiar shape drew out of the dark. Tall and lithe with a long emerald cloak and body-length staff/scepter:

It was the sand witch.

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**A/N: **Hey all; hope you enjoyed! The battle's not over yet! LOL; but, yep, another cliffy. So, in a few weeks, I plan on updating again.

JK! It'll be sooner than that; I just wanted to be naughty for a sec. C'mon, I've given you soooo many chapters! I'm forgiven, right!? Anyhow, leave a looooong review plz! It'll make this a little more bearable for me! Thanks!


	103. Chapter 103: In Place of Another

**A/N: **Seriously kids; I gotta tell ya, this whole no modern laptop, no internet thing, it's making me pretty crazy here. When I become a vegetable, just water me occasionally. I prefer organic white tea, if you have any….

I got a question from 'guest' recently as to how many chpts. I plan to write total for this fic; TBH, I don't know. Probably ten more IF I had to guess; but that's all it is: a guess. And I'm probably undershooting it. But, we'll see. Let's call it 10-20 more and see what happens, k? Anyhow, thanks SO much for being patient as I get this madness straightened out. I'm also starting a new job next week just to make life even more interesting; so thanks for bearing with me. It's been 2.5 wks since the laptop left me…ugh. Let's pray I get that: "it's back!" call soon, k? K

Anyhow; onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 103: In the Place of Another_

Sadira curled her lip as Desdane attempted to scrutinize her through the monolithic clouds of coppery sand while flexing his fingers. It was only after the debris parted between them in translucent sheets, he was able to glean a clear view of his opponent.

"Well, little sand witch," the sorcerer snarled, gesturing as he looked away then back to her, "come to die for the brat; how"—and Sadira was caught off guard at the way he suddenly stopped and blinked at her, as it not believing his frightening eyes.

She readied her magic when his already venomous gaze darkened into a mask of death.

"Oh, but _this_ I did not foresee," he whispered in amazement, "what a pity it would have been, not beholding your face before your _gruesome_ end."

_What did that mean?_ Well; she had no time to ponder it, as the sand all around her exploded.

She flew backwards, screaming, as the thick tendrils propelled her, and calling out a command, she bent the sands to her will. She gestured, and a 'carpet' of sand caught her in the air. She perched on it, keeping her knees bent—just in case—and waved.

With a thunderous rumble, the ground beneath Desdane shook violently, and army of sand monsters, each large as a house, rose from the streets, surrounding the sorcerer.

It was an elaborate feint, Sadira had to admit, but as the sorcerer sneered at her 'hopeless lack of talent,' and began to vanquish the creatures after they roared and charged him, Sadira prepared her true attack in her open palm and threw it at the sorcerer.

The spell struck him just as he spun to face her, no doubt sensing it—too late.

It teleported him outside of Agrabah in a blinding, ruby burst that let out a 'booming' shockwave as he vanished.

She waved and a ripple of azure light, like water, surrounded her and her creations; she followed him.

Otherwise he'd be back for Mozenrath.

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Aladdin watched as Sadira vanished with her 'entourage.'

That's not what he had hoped for; why didn't she stay? How was he to revive Farid alone?

"Genie!" he called.

A second later his father and Genie both dropped out of a swirl of mist to his left, Genie smoldering and charred. Al leapt to his feet, racing to them.

"Dad! Genie! What happened?"

"Ugh," Cassim groaned as he gracelessly rose, "our 'friend' Desdane created a wall of horrid beasts all around the palace that we had to battle before reaching you."

Oh; so that's why his dad's garb was all torn up.

"Dad, you're not"—

"Hurt?" Cassim sputtered as if the question were absurd and then winced in pain as he tried to move towards Farid. "Well, nothing dire"—and then he caught that Farid wasn't moving.

"What happened?" Cassim demanded as he rushed to his eldest. "Why is he so"—

"Green?" Al said, as he bent and helped Genie up, who poofed back to 'normal' and shook the dust and ash out of his head, "I…don't know. Desdane did something to him." He looked worriedly to Genie. "Are you ok?"

"Ah, sure Al," Genie put in with his never-ending-optimism, "nothing that some spit and shine won't fix-plus a mountain of my secret recipe burritos when this is over."

Al sighed. "Good," he gestured to his brother, whom their dad was crouched over, rubbing his hands and trying to wake him. "Do you know…?"

Genie swooshed over to Farid, and he poofed out a large worn tome. "Well, Al, if I had to guess, our new psycho-wizard hit your brother with Drackghoul's Emerald Mist." He flipped through some dusty pages with one hand while holding a pair of aged spectacles to his eyes. He suddenly stopped, 'uh-huh-ing' to himself and whipping the book around so they could see. Al took in a two-page illustration of a creature even more horrifying than the spectral vampires they had fought in Mozenrath's dungeon.

"What-?" Al couldn't even finish the question as he recoiled against his will.

Genie nodded with an apologetic "I know," look. "Yeah, that's Drackghoul. Just be happy we're not fighting him. But, some of his tricks did get out; the Emerald Mist being one of them."

"So, how do we cure it?" Cassim barked impatiently.

Genie flinched and shuffled through a few more pages before gulping emphatically. "Uh…we don't."

"What!?" Cassim thundered.

Al put a placating hand on his dad's shoulder just as the former Thief-King made to seize Genie and probably indulge in some old fashioned throttling. Cassim took the hint with a fuming exhale and asked behind clenched teeth instead: "Then what do we _do_!?"

"Capture Desdane; he's the only one who can undo this," was the sympathetic reply.

Al took a centering breath; Genie's miserable look telling him plainly he had wished to give any answer but that one. "It's okay, Genie, let's just find Sadira. Once we help her take down Desdane; we'll make him let Farid go."

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Sadira fell back first into the dune; the sand dug and bit into her exposed back and arms.

"Agh!"

"Foolish little witch," Desdane purred dangerously as he loomed over her, "do you truly believe your puny spells are a match for me? Me; who felled your precious Empire eons ago?"

"Was that before or after Talshieda 'felled' you?" was the quipped reply.

Desdane roared in inconceivable fury, throwing his slender arms into the air with a wailing yell and tsunami's of sand walls shrieked as they catapulted themselves into the night sky, waiting for the word from Desdane to crush Sadira.

"I'll bury you with your long-dead likeness," he hissed, his eyes blazing wrathfully, and dropped his arms.

A blue burst erupted from Sadira's pocket, blasting into Desdane and launching him into his own sand monoliths, which once his concentration was broken, collapsed on him.

"Sadira!" a voice called.

The sand witch barely heard it over the deafening thunder of the structures falling in on themselves.

Through fresh billows of sand dust, Carpet appeared, carrying Al, his father and a form who Sadira felt only too certain was Farid.

Genie flew beside them.

"Sadira," Al said breathlessly after Carpet halted before her and Al leapt off, "we came to help you stop Desdane."

Sadira could only quirk her lips. "Well, thanks," she said with a shy shrug, "but…" and she gestured to the freshly laid dunes, which Desdane was surely buried under.

"Yeah," Al said, his face drawn, "we need him to cure Farid."

Sadira's lips parted. "I know; I felt the Emerald Mist; but, there's another way"—

The sand around them erupted like a bombarding volcano; they were viciously thrown apart as the sands blackened as if sickened in some way and from the silent, still skies, gales came from nowhere, howling so loudly the company had to cover their ears even as they coughed and tried to shield their faces from the onslaught of sands.

"No one," Desdane said quietly, his voice somehow perfectly clear to all of them through the assailing dune-scape, "does that to me; least of all you, little rat."

Sadira was pinned down under the freshly blacked sands, assailed and belted relentlessly by boulders the onyx landscape, but even with it clawing her eyes, she could scarcely see Carpet also unable to move—and Farid on his back, the storm not touching him.

And Desdane was heading right for him.

And suddenly the storm was gone, the sands still charred, but motionless, until hands of it grew from the ground, seizing all of them in turn.

Sadira pulled at her magic, tried all the spells she could think of…and was only rewarded with Desdane's amused chuckle.

"I thought at first slaying you now would be best," he mused aloud, standing over Farid's unresponsive form, "but…no. I want him to be awake for your deaths; it will be a just recompense for all he has caused me."

"Let my son go," Cassim ground out, "you've had your revenge; my wife is dead."

His voice was hollow.

"Oh, but I know that," was Desdane's careless answer, "I killed her."

"Monster," Aladdin spat.

"Hardly," was the mild retort, and he turned to the boy, "I saved her; ungrateful rat that she was."

Al looked anything but convinced; they all did. Desdane only smirked at them in response, and wandered carelessly over to Aladdin, stopping before him.

"You know nothing of your 'mother,' boy," he softly warned, "nothing. Do you know what she was when I found her, eons ago? Hmmm," he added thoughtfully, smirking again, "I'd tell you, but a boy of your youth would only blush. Let us just say, she was a pretty girl and her masters and 'clients' kept her much occupied."

Aladdin turned scarlet. Cassim glared pure death at the sorcerer.

"Oh, but it is true," Desdane assured them, "I liberated her; I killed her owners and made her my apprentice, but her son learned her treachery well."

"Apprentice," Cassim spat at him, "she was just as much your slave as theirs; no wonder she turned on you."

Sadira frantically reached in her pocket for whatever had caused the blue light as Desdane reeled on Cassim. "You'll pay dearly for that, mortal—when the time comes."

He seemed thoroughly pleased by the idea; that was wrong, Sadira realized.

Why was he doing nothing now?

"Why," she couldn't help but ask, "you're waiting for something."

Desdane only offered her a small, approving smile. "Quite: the right moment. You see, you mortals are always so in a hurry; I'm far too old to ever be rushed—and we have all of eternity to play with you all. Slavery indeed; you've foretold your own fate, mortal."

"Foretold?" Cassim warily asked.

"'We'?" Al added.

Desdane gestured behind him. "Yes: we."

Behind him and all around him, spectral forms all appeared, leering and laughing at the group.

They gasped; Sadira had never seen all of Al's enemies before, but in her visions, she had beheld quite a few of them.

"My associates," Desdane blandly introduced.

Sadira noticed the lithe feline woman with the El'Khatib and Fire Cats: Mirage; the 'duke of the dead:' Ayam Aghoul; several other mages Al had fought…and the very tall wizard in ruby and black robes that Al and Genie were gaping at.

"Jafar!" they exclaimed together.

Jafar only leaned on his staff lazily. "My; I'm so flattered you remember me," he drawled, "I fear melting my lamp won't save you this time: I'm a genie no longer." He tutted. "Pity; isn't it boys?" He smiled.

"Ha!" Genie challenged. "Well, I'm still a freed genie; you won't better me this time."

"Yes, you look quite 'free' at present."

Genie was shut down by that.

"Well," Desdane announced, walking back towards Farid, "I'd happily gloat all night, children, but some of us have a war to win—such as it will be." He waved his cloak over Farid and the boy vanished.

"No!" Al and Cassim yelled, writhing impotently to stop him.

Desdane smiled. "Oh, never fear; you'll see him—and us—very soon."

Blinding blood red light overwhelmed them from all sides—and Desdane and his 'host' were gone.

And Al and co. were all standing—quite free—in the desert.

Al's face was the picture of determination.

"C'mon," he said, "we have to get back to Agrabah."

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Amal and Mukhtar were waiting for them when they arrived at the palace's front gate.

"The creaturessss sent to attack usss all vanished a few moments ago," Mukhtar informed them grimly, Saurus standing beside him; all three of them were the worse for wear, Al nodded.

"Just so long as they're gone," the boy said, "is anyone seriously injured?"

"A couple of King Pector's men," Amal put in, "but they're being patched up by the healers."

"All right," was the reply, "we need to find the sultan."

It didn't take too long to bring the sultan and others up to speed. Al stayed near his dad; Cassim's face was a study in misery—he was clearly blaming himself for not being able to stop the sorcerer.

"Dad, there wasn't anything you could do," Al whispered as Jaz and her father delegated tasks and duties to those standing guard and making the final preparations to move out against the Land of the Black Sand.

Sadira sidled up beside them. "He's right," she murmured in agreement and Al blinked, hearing something else in her tone: guilt. She drew up a closed fist and opened it. "This was in my pocket. It made blue light I'm sure you saw on your approach."

It was a ring; Al wasn't much the connoisseur in jewels, but Abu caught the glint of the ring's only blue stone and hopped up to his shoulder for a better look; Cassim's mouth fell open.

"The Mystic Blue diamond," he breathed in disbelief, "but…it's a royal relic; where did you get it?"

"Farid and I found it in Jafar's room; Farid took it," Sadira explained, "he must have slipped it into my pocket without my knowing it; it was…imbued with his magic." She put her head down. "I'm sorry; it's what kept me from getting squashed back there, but I never _asked _him to"—

Cassim raised a hand to forestall her. "No; you're not to blame," he tiredly said, "like you said: you didn't ask."

"I'm sorry," Sadira said anyways; Cassim only shook his head, saying in so many words she shouldn't be, and walked towards the balcony, probably for air.

Al turned to follow him, not seeing Sadira slip out a side door, mostly concealed behind long, sapphire blue drapes.

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Even as her mind adamantly iterated again and again that Cassim was right, Farid's capture wasn't her fault…guilt gnawed hungrily at Sadira's insides.

Farid; he had practically drained his magic to fuel that ring, bequeathing the power to keep her safe from Desdane—why? Why endanger himself like that? Surely he could have had a fighting chance against the Emerald Mist…had he not infused so much of his magic into the Mystic Blue Diamond.

'The Mystic Blue Diamond,' Sadira held it between two fingers and regarded it as she stood beside Jasmine's fountain. Its happy bubbling sound partly masked the urgent voices in the backdrop preparing for the dawn—and war.

But all Sadira could think of was Farid. Was he safe? Was he being magically drained again even as she stood there? What could she do to help him?

He was a prisoner because of her; for some reason…he had put himself at risk to limit how at risk she would be. Sadira didn't fully understand why…and knew better than to let herself hope in the direction her thoughts were taking her—but she did know one thing for certain:

She had to act.

The first step would be to ascertain where he was; thankfully, the Blue Diamond could help her do that.

The sultan must have given it to Farid; otherwise its magical sense would not be telling her Farid was its owner.

So…she now had a link to him.

She bent over Jasmine's fountain, and sprinkling some silvery, magical sand into the water from her pocket, she commanded it to show her Farid.

As the water rippled and an image took form, she chewed her lip fiercely.

He was bound with heavy chains…in the dungeon.

And she could spy something dark watching him from the far corner.

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**A/N: **Hi all, again, I'm sooooo sorry this took so long! I lost my second job last week, budget cutbacks and all that…and three of us were cut loose, me being one of them…so now I'm starting a new job, but now having to find a new second job. Gah; and…still no laptop, and my phone is still acting up too. So…I'm gonna do the best I can, and I'm not abandoning ANY of my fics; but with my life being such a hectic mess, I don't want to commit to an uploading schedule; I've just got too many coals in the fire right now.

In other news, ASJJohnson will be uploading a DeviantArt fanart of Farid pretty soon. Plz visit .com for the pic; I think it's just called: "Farid." Visit ASJJohnson's page on Deviant Art for more info; his work is AWESOME! I highly recommend perusing through all of it Well, thanks for reading; plz leave a review!


	104. Chapter 104: Sand Versus Sea

**A/N: **Hey all; so…now the loaner laptop is starting to die on me…which is slowing the process up even more. I've got to write the bare bones of the chapter at home, try to format it at the library and upload it. Oh God; PRAY my laptop comes back from the shop before I lose my mind. Between this and job hunting, I don't know what I'm gonna do. Anyways, so I owe a BIG apology to ASJ Johnson, whom I called 'he' in my last chapter and is not a 'he.' I just assumed it because SHE is an artist and her icon before Moze was an anime pic that I assumed was a self- portrait; totally my bad. So, sorry to ASJ Johnson, that's me and assumptions for ya; never turns out well. :P Anyhow, I'm sure you're all wondering what Farid is up to now that he's Desdane's prisoner yet again. Let's find out, shall we? Onward! 

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 104: The Sand Versus the Sea_

The first thing Farid realized as he pulled himself out of his groggy-haze was that his head hurt. A dull ache penetrated his brow, but in a twisted way, it helped him re-grasp his hold on reality. He knew he was in pain; it was something he could build on, dismal as it was.

He was acquainted with 'dismal,' they were old friends; he grimaced at the thought as he forced his tired eyes open.

He recognized the dungeon at once; it was the one Desdane often threw him into in his early childhood. If he failed to learn a spell quickly enough or 'needed time to appreciate better all he had,' Desdane would cast him in here to 'have some time to learn better gratitude.'

It was a decrepit place; fallen beams leaned diagonally against the cracking stone walls, manacles wound around them for prisoners—namely himself. They were wound around his arms and legs, biting mercilessly into his body just as all the other times. He test-lifted an arm and heard the clanking of metal; he could sense the magic-repressing spells forged into them.

Just as though he were six again.

He peered up through bleary eyes at the very high ceiling. It was the only dungeon where part of the ceiling had caved in. He would often read in the sparse daylight to pass the days and weeks trapped there; Farid assumed now the damage took place during the Imperial War- probably the final battle. He recalled how Xerxes would sneak him food through the ceiling's gaps and crevices—and how Desdane always caught him, without fail.

But…without fail, the next time he found himself imprisoned here, Xerxes would come again; even knowing punishment awaited his faithfulness.

His lips tugged in a tiny, wan smile.

"Well, finally awake are we?"

The teasing voice riveted his attention to the opposite wall. The aged wood door, rimmed with thick iron, led to a short staircase and a few steps from the landing, dim rays of early dawn, cast through the broken stone over Farid's head, created a soft pool of pale light.

A shadow detached from the wall, near the large door, and sauntered into the light.

Farid repressed a sneer.

It was Saleen.

She sultrily made her way to him, garbed in a flowing translucent gown of gold and tangerine material slit up the sides, showing off her flawless legs. The plunging neckline and sleeveless arms lent little to the imagination.

He looked away; she was as repulsive as they day he'd sent her and her fawning lackey into the Otherworld.

Poor Aladdin; having to put up with this bratty fish—he held back the grimace that he was actually pitying his street rat brother for anything.

Oh; how things have truly changed.

"Have a nice nap, wizard?" she cooed to him, smirking condescendingly as she whispered a spell to keep him frozen while she made herself comfortable on his lap. "And here I was so worried Desdane's spell would leave permanent damage"—she snickered at his threatening sounds as he tried to twist his legs and throw her off—"but I see it was for nothing."

"How did you get out of the Otherworld?" he snapped in annoyance as she pressed her front into his and draped her lithe arms over his shoulders. It had to have been Desdane; she wasn't nearly clever enough—

Saleen must have read the thought in his face because she laughed; and then deliberately got under his skin even more by stroking his hair while giving him a mock-pitying look.

"Oh, poor arrogant wizard," she purred, and grinned at how he squirmed under her hands and glowered at her, "do you think your powers are so above mine?"

"Yes," he snarked.

She smiled the smile of a predator cornering prey. "You forget: I'm the Elemental of Water…and water is _everywhere,_ pet. It's in the air you breathe, it's all around you"—

Ah; so that was how she was holding him in place; he noted it.

-"there's no place where water isn't," she tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. "Such a pity that Desdane never taught you that," she grinned mischievously, "or…is it?"

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, wracking his mind for a way to get free…and away from her.

"I'm bored," she pouted, her full lips punctuating in a way that Farid assumed was meant to be an invitation—

He wanted to spit on her; she wasn't the mouse…she could never replace—

He stilled at the realization that most men would happily line up to have such a gorgeous woman of wealth, magic and mystique sit on their lap and flirtingly play with them…but he'd rather have the mouse, with her bushy head, calloused hands—and unlimited compassion.

My; but he had changed indeed. _Mozenrath_ would never have given a lowly street urchin like her a second glance and therefore deprived himself of her hilarious quirks and endless understanding.

Saleen caught that something was on his mind…other than her. She kept petting his hair with one hand and entwined one of his curls around the fingers of the other. Her hands were silkily soft; and she smelled like exotic sea flowers. Farid noticed how the stray rays of light lent her ivory skin an ethereal luster…it was obvious why Desdane was keeping her around.

And he could keep her; she wasn't the sand witch.

An image of the mouse, with her back to the lamps, their golden glow flickering in her bushy mane flitted across his thoughts.

Saleen tugged hard enough on the hair wound around her fingers for Farid to hiss in pain.

"Naughty, naughty," she mock-chided, "you're supposed to be focusing on _me_."

Farid smirked at her and leaned close enough that their faces almost touched. "I'd happily focus," he softly began, and Saleen brightened, "on…anything _else_."

She slapped him hard enough that the back of his head struck stone. He laughed.

"Oh, it must bother you," he bit out as his vision swam, "that you can infatuate an old man like Desdane, but not Aladdin or me." He laughed again. "Well…I guess I should congratulate you for finally going after quarries _your own age_."

Saleen's beautiful face twisted into a mask of fury; Farid only laughed openly at it.

Her water magic wrapped around his torso and arms tight enough to hurt—and Farid wondered why she bothered as his hands were shackled on either side of his head in the icy chains. His legs were equally bound, but her slender body was positioned around them.

"Do you know what your problem is, little wizard?" she crooned, stroking his face and Farid wanted to snark: 'you?' but her magic had stilled his tongue as well. "You've been penned up in this cold, dark structure your _entire life_." Her tone was slick with false sympathy, and Farid tried to struggle, but had to content himself with glaring threateningly at her, which only made her smirk and pet his face even more tauntingly. "You've never learned anything but cold, dark and magic…but," she smile became what Farid deduced was intended to be enticing, "there are many, many other things about the world for you to learn…like this," and she sealed her full lips on his.

Oh; he was going to kill her! The instant her moist, soft, _horrid_ lips touched his he felt his rage explode violently—and breech the manacle's ability to impede his magic…just a bit. Even with the monolithic expansion of his power, Desdane was still his superior…but his magic made a fracture in the chains' binding spell, enough that he could sense Saleen's magic.

Wait; Saleen's magic; if he couldn't use his magic to escape…could he 'borrow' hers?

Oh; but that would be deliciously ironic.

But, he had to make her lower her guard first…ugh; he was going to hate this.

As Saleen tried futilely to work her 'other' brand of magic on him, Farid forced his lips to tremble, just a little.

Not that that was hard…but he so desperately longed to bite her hideous tongue off and spit it in her smug face! That'd teach her.

But, now, she'd think he'd weakened; outdone by her 'charms.'

"Well," she crooned playfully, breaking far enough apart to impale him with a triumphant, but artful look, "you're not quite the cold-hearted wizard you pretend to be, after all."

Farid blinked. It was almost word for word what that mouse had—

She smirked at his surprised face and kissed him again before he could react further.

It didn't matter; she was so busy moaning and enjoying her 'victory,' she didn't notice him sneak into her thoughts with his sliver of freed magic…and quietly snare her magic with his.

She didn't have time to warn anyone when he twisted her magic to his will and spelled her into a deep, coma like sleep.

Her body went limp with a soft groan, draping over his.

The instant he was freed of her magic, he turned his head and spat the awful taste of her out of his mouth.

"Disgusting," he muttered, and with a word, made the shackles click open.

He gracelessly pushed her off him and the chains all clanked noisily as he rose, and stretched.

He favored Saleen with a sour face as he wiped his mouth and turned away, pondering his next move.

"It says a lot when even the 'insane wizards' don't want you," he muttered to Saleen as he advanced towards the door.

"Master… master," a raspy voice whispered from above.

Farid lifted his gaze just as Xerxes peaked from one of the uppermost stones where he'd been hiding for who knew how long and weaved down to him.

"Xerxes," Farid murmured in infinite relief, embracing the little eel, who wrapped his tail around one arm in return, "you have no idea what it means to see you here."

Xerxes smiled in pleasure and looked over Farid. "Master not hurt?"

"No," Farid distastefully replied, "only irritated." He glanced down at Saleen to make his point.

Xerxes followed his gaze. "Blah," he said to the mermaid in disdain.

"Agreed," was the reply and Farid scrutinized their next obstacle. "We have little time, Xerxes."

"What we gonna do?"

Farid leveled a sober look at him. "We're going to stop Desdane."

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Sadira watched in horror as Farid seemed to be overwhelmed by Saleen's sultry advances…only to obviously have tricked her into lowering her guard and using her own magic against her.

She couldn't stop herself from dancing around in glee as he freed himself, Xerxes appeared from a shadowy corner and they managed to unlock the apparently unguarded door and slipped out of her sight.

"Hoorah! It was all a trick; he doesn't really"—

And then it hit her what she was about to say:

"_He doesn't like _her_."_

Sadira wanted to backhand herself. How about that little problems of Farid is free, is planning to challenge Desdane with only Xerxes to back him up…and oh, the war?

She groaned at her own thoughtlessness and ran for the nearest door.

When she burst into Aladdin's room to find the others; she wondered who had died.

Everyone looked at her with distraught, hopeless faces.

"What happened?" she asked, her throat tightening in worry.

Aladdin pointed to a long table between herself and all of them.

Something charred to a blackened crisp that looked like it once may have been the Oracle was set atop it.

"Oh…no," she moaned. "How?"

"It must have been Desdane," Jasmine despairingly said, "when he attacked the palace with those creatures, I thought it was just a diversion so he could get at Farid"—

"We all thought that," Sadira put in.

"But, after you all got back, I went to get the Oracle," Jasmine went on, waving to the remains of the magic relic, "but…that's what I found in the Treasury. He must have known we were going to ask how to stop him with it."

Sadira felt her shoulders loosen and drop. "Then…there's still hope."

"Really?" Al said hopefully, "You mean you can repair it again?"

Sadira shook her head. "I can try, but it would take too long." She held up a hand to more questions. "But…don't you all see? It must mean there is a way to stop Desdane; otherwise, why would he bother to destroy the Oracle?"

Everyone but Iago seemed heartened by that.

"Uh, and what's the bad news?" the parrot put in. Everyone threw withering looks at him. He raised his wings in defense.

"It's true!" the parrot insisted, "There's bad news coming; otherwise why would Sadira come running in like that?"

"Sadira?" Jasmine tentatively asked her, with a '_please don't let Iago be right'_ face.

Sadira's expression was apologetic. "He's right. I found Farid."

"And?" Cassim demanded at once, stepping forward.

Another head shake. "He was in the dungeon, Saleen tried…uh, to…well, anyways," she coughed and didn't look at anyone, "he's free now and"—

Oh, spells; how could she tell them!?

"Sadira," Al pleaded.

She let out a breath. "He's going to face down Desdane, right now, alone," she forced out.

She didn't see Cassim close his eyes in devastation, or how Al paled and put a consoling hand on his father's shoulder.

Jasmine stepped forward. "We don't have time then," she firmly began, "we have to go; now." She turned to Genie. "Genie, can you teleport us all to the Land of the Black Sand?"

"Uhhhh"—

"Jaz," Sadira cut in, "we can't just show up there; we'll need time to assess things."

She saw it click in Jaz's face. She turned back to Genie. "How about right outside their borders then?"

Genie saluted smartly. "Can do, Jaz."

"I'll use my magic then to cover our approach," Sadira put in. "Just give me a few minutes to collect some relics I want to use…and Jib and the others."

Jaz nodded.

Cassim fingered his sword. "I'll get my men."

Jasmine headed for the door with Sadira. "I'll tell my father what's happened."

Iago sighed. "Well, this is it kids; we're all dying for sure this time."

Rajah snapped his jaws and him and Iago squealed and told the tiger off.

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Sadira found the Emerald Mantle and Scepter where she had dispelled them to last. She also pulled out a ruby amulet; oval shaped and smaller than the one she'd used to summon up the Sand Creature when she had first began magic. She sighed at the thought. She'd taught herself magic to impress Aladdin; not throw herself headlong into a war they had little chance of winning.

She knew with equal certainty though that if she walked away, she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

Her life was here, in Agrabah, with her friends—

She recalled her offer to Farid, for him to go away with her once this was over, should they win.

Saleen had done her most insidious in trying to seduce him…and had failed.

But he had kissed _her _hand; and had appeared to want to leave with her.

She swallowed the knot in her throat as the amulet dangled in her fingers. No; this was not the time. If they all survived, she'd have time enough to discover if he really cared about her or not.

"_It has to be me," _he had soberly told her. She had assumed he only had meant in revealing his mother's identity; but now she wondered if he had meant he had to finish what Talshieda had started.

She shivered; no, she hoped desperately she was wrong, because while Farid had power enough for 30 wizards, Sadira feared that still wasn't enough for him to destroy Desdane.

Talshieda had failed; and had gone into hiding for thousands of years.

Hiding…from Desdane.

What chance then did her son have? Especially since Sadira felt quite certain Farid couldn't yet boast being his mother's equal in magic—cunning perhaps; but not raw power.

She sensed Jib pop out of the sand behind her.

"We're ready, my queen."

Sadira spelled the Emerald Mantle onto her, and put the amulet around her neck. She tested the weight of the Scepter.

"Where are the others?"

"With the sultan and his allies; we'd better join them. The allies seem…spooked by the other sand worms. Apparently they don't talk where these other rulers are from."

Sadira cracked a grin, in spite of everything.

"And your aunt?"

"With them."

Sadira waved her cloak and the relics in the room all vanished, now safely 'melded' into her garment. She took a breath.

"Let's go," she said.

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Farid wasn't put at ease by the fact that they had encountered no sentries of any kind as they had crept together through the dank corridors.

Xerxes sat perfectly still on his shoulder, looking with wide eyes all around them and sniffing occasionally to ensure they weren't being waited for around a corner or tracked by any followers.

"Too quiet," he murmured.

Farid nodded; he felt the same way.

Unease made his skin prickle. By now his street rat kin had no doubt discovered what had become of him…and his plans. He'd be charging 'bravely' into the Land of the Black Sand at any moment.

They had to deal with Desdane before that; they had to at least cripple his forces and leave him vulnerable. The rest Farid would figure out as they went.

He hoped.

They were still in the dungeon area. Most of the lower bowels of the Citadel were dungeons of one type or another; Farid grimaced. Desdane was very fond of them; Farid tried to not think about why.

But, as he soundlessly turned a corner, chattering voices perked his attention.

It was coming from behind one of the nearby cells. He leaned against the dry wooden door to listen; yes, many voices drifted to his ears.

One word opened the large door silently, but he groaned upon seeing whom he was 'liberating.'

A soft glow emanated from the cell, blue-silver and all too familiar.

The tiny 'prisoners' all shrieked when they turned in jubilation to greet their rescuer and found it was:

"Ahhhh! Mozenrath!"

"Quiet," the wizard snapped. Xerxes shook his head bleakly.

"Ugh, master; look: sprites."

Farid lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "I know."

"What you want with us?" one demanded, despite shaking in fear. "We not work for you again."

"Quiet," the wizard barked again. "Desdane has taken over my kingdom; your choices are very clear: help me; or…wait until he wins the war and decides to feed you to his minions."

The sprites all gulped and shuddered; oh, so Desdane had already made his intentions plain then.

Good.

"Why should we help you?" one suspiciously asked.

Farid sighed; he didn't have time for this. "Because I'll lock you in here forever if you don't."

"We'll help," they chimed in agreement.

"Good," the wizard replied, "now…all of you go upstairs and begin to sabotage whatever you find: relics, mechanisms, I don't care. If it's Desdane's: break it."

They chuckled in delight; apparently these orders were to their liking.

As they flew past him to do as he bid, he stopped one; a magenta colored one.

"Not you," he directed, "you go to Agrabah."

"To Aladdin?"

Hmmm; so they had some sense after all. "Yes, find him and tell him this…."

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Farid turned to leave the cell behind and quickly discovered other enemies of Desdane locked up on the other chambers. With a resigned sigh, he released them all and made them the offer to help stop the elder mage. They were all very happy to oblige Farid, and set off in various directions to deal out blows to Desdane's work.

It would help; with the diversion of so many foes freed at once and all over the Citadel wreaking mayhem, it would increase Farid's chances of catching Desdane off guard.

Now; one more thing had to be seen to.

A few minutes later Farid and Xerxes were in the Armory.

"Why we here, master?"

"For this," Farid said, picking up a golden sash.

"Belt of Invisibility?"

Farid nodded; recalling how he'd once lent it to Amin Damoola—what a mistake that had been, trusting his magic devices to some two-denarii thief.

"Come here, Xerxes."

The eel did as bidden; he flinched in surprise when Farid began to wrap the belt around him.

"But…master need"—

"'Master,'" Farid cut in, "needs Xerxes to stay out of sight." He shuddered, remembering Xerxes' broken body from his nightmare. "I…won't risk you." He silently pled for the eel to understand.

"_Family is more than blood…you know that. Why else would you tell Xerxes to save himself?"_

The mouse had been right, Farid had realized at length. He had known it all along, deep down, but it hadn't been until that night he'd consciously understood the mouse's keenness of insight.

He lifted his eyes back to Xerxes, whose head was only now visible, thanks to the belt.

"Promise me," Farid stonily said, "that no matter what happens to me, you'll not let Desdane see you, and…if the worse happens, you'll get far, far away from here."

Xerxes's face was miserable. "Xerxes…promise," he almost inaudibly replied, clearly wanting to say anything but that. But…Farid made a point of wearing his best 'don't even think of arguing with me' face.

He held in the sigh of relief. It had worked.

He nodded, petted the eel's head reassuringly, and finished wrapping the belt around him.

Xerxes was now totally unseen. Mozenrath let his body relax ever so slightly as he made for a nearby chest. It softly creaked as he opened the ornate lid; and fished out his goal: a long, tan colored robe thick with magic.

He quickly shirked the blue robe he wore and donned the tan. The Robe of Issies; it was practically like armor, made by a Mage-Emperor, he had worn it in every war—and won; he had died from the ripe old age of 10,000 years.

Farid hoped dearly it would prove as vital to him. He located and tucked some magic daggers into the robe; blades fashioned specifically to kill mages.

Old, powerful ones: like Desdane.

Now; the hard part: actually killing him and walking away from it.

He turned to the massive double doors.

"You press on towards a losing battle, young one."

Farid spun around. He hadn't sensed anyone nearby! Who had-?!

Near him were the large pillars; from behind one of the statues came an aged man.

Farid's eyes narrowed. He could see the old one, but not feel him…how?

He was a strange-looking unknown, he wore a long grey robe, with a thick collar beneath his bearded face; long white hair fell to his shoulders. He wore a matching blindfold around his eyes; he was sightless then…yet he had no walking stick.

So…how did he navigate?

Then it struck him whom he was standing with: The Blind Seer, otherwise known as….

"Phasir, I presume," he coolly greeted.

Phasir smiled, apparently pleased at being recognized. "Most know not of me," he appraised.

"I'm not most," was the frigid reply. "What did you mean by: 'you press on towards a losing battle'?"

Phasir somehow looked grim, despite the face bandage. "If you wish to win this war, young mage, you must lose it; if you win, you will lose."

Farid felt his rage build. "Do I look to have time for these games?" he hissed. "Speak plainly, or don't waste my time."

"You have little time left; if you wish to win, you must die."

And he was gone.

Farid heard Xerxes gulp in fear. "Master must not die," he whispered in terror.

Farid only looked to where Phasir had been standing. His stomach twisted in knots.

No; the blood ritual had been incomplete, imperfect…unwilling on his part; the seer had to be wrong.

"I'm going to the Tower," Farid told the eel, "find Aladdin and be sure he doesn't interfere."

He didn't hear Xerxes move.

"Now, Xerxes."

A defeated sigh. "Yes, master," was the gloomy reply and he heard the watery sound of Xerxes flying away.

He went to find Desdane.

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**A/N**: Well, all; I hope this makes up for the maddening wait! Today was 3 wks my laptop's been gone, so hopefully it'll be back any day now. GAH! Plz pray it is! Or, I'll be uploading my new chapters from the loony bin! :P Anyhow, have pity on the author here; R&R! And…enjoy!


	105. Chapter 105: The War Begins

**A/N: **Hey all; so, I'm adapting some to this laptop not working right. So, we're making progress on that front. Also, I'm happy to say that I've found a couple solid job opportunities, so we'll see in the next few days what happens there. Otherwise, had a couple questions before: why is Farid going to face Desdane alone? A: mainly, it's because he's afraid for the others, and as he just found his family he's planning to do all he can to keep them away from Desdane; no, it's really not the smartest or most logical thing, but with all Farid's been through up till now, he's at a point where he's simply doing the best he can. More on that in future chapters. Also, I've had the question of: when will there be more Al/Jaz moments in this fic? A: they are coming; there's not gonna be TOO many more because…I'm saving a lot of them for the sequel! Yes, kiddos, there will be a sequel to this fic. I actually just thought of a bare-bones idea two days ago and have been playing with ideas, scenes, etc. and already there will be more Al/Jaz in part 2 than in part 1. Part 3? Not sure if there'll be one yet; let's finish 1 and see how two pans out, k? K. So, onward and upward, right? We've got chapters yet on this! Enjoy!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 105: The War Begins_

Farid didn't let himself stop to think it through, or contemplate failure as he entered the Tower chamber; he had no time to contemplate, and failure wasn't an option.

The main Tower prior possessed only a single window; Desdane had clearly decided he wished to view the war from this chamber; he'd utilized his magic to give the Tower an open balcony on the half facing the city below, pillars replaced most of the Tower's walls, leading to a balcony winding all around the structure…yet while Farid could sense Desdane he couldn't see the man.

"You've come to destroy me, apprentice?" a voice asked lightly. "How noble."

Desdane seemed to walk out of thin air from between two golden-tan pillars, his hands folded regally, his face anything but concerned.

Farid stilled, thrown by his bloodlust suddenly cooling. What was he waiting for? He knew Aladdin and the others would arrive any moment to 'save him.' But, even as he reached into the robe for one of the relic-daggers, his tense shoulders unknotted.

Mozenrath wouldn't waste words; he'd simply dive for the kill…any dark wizard would.

Desdane's eyes narrowed, probably bewildered by his hesitation.

Farid took a breath, re-gathered his thoughts; no matter what happened, it struck him abruptly, like a shooting star, whatever he did now would be as Farid, not Mozenrath.

"You won't win," he heard himself tell the other mage, shocking himself by the calmness of his voice. "But…it doesn't have to end like this."

Desdane chuckled, glancing at the floor, then back up at Farid. "How terribly heroic, boy; is this where you offer me my life?"

"It's more than you deserve, but yes."

Desdane's face hardened at his stony tone. "They've truly ruined you," he appraised, his eyes somehow ice yet flaming all the same. "But, fear not little one; I'll soon fix that."

Farid moved, ducking the magical blast even before Desdane gestured; whipping out one of the enchanted blades, he imbued it with magic he created on his own…magic to kill an immortal.

He threw it; but Desdane was ready. Moving with lithe agility for a man thousands of years old, Desdane waved, summoning up a staff made of magic—neatly blocking the knife.

Farid dropped to the floor, wrapped in invisible, anchored chains. He yelled as his head stuck the marble tiling. Soft footsteps announced the other's approach.

"He wasn't supposed to grant you a chance to surrender, darling," a silky voice flitted from the back wall.

Farid glanced up at Desdane as the other replied, "No, it would seem they've poisoned him more than I anticipated." His voice was too pondering for Farid's comfort.

Saleen drew out of the pooled dark, sauntering over to them. Desdane waved, and the chains wound around Farid showed themselves; they were translucent and aqua colored, moving and flowing like water.

Like water; Saleen's magic then. Farid snarled at her as she came to stand beside Desdane, grinning down at him.

"Oh, poor little wizard didn't look to sense _my_ magic," she cooed teasingly, "tut-tut, a mistake on your part."

"One you counted on," Farid snapped back.

Saleen only smiled, smoothing her hair, now loose and rippling down her back in large, tumbling curls. She wore no jewels or hair ornaments. "I'm hardly to blame for your…preconditioning, pet."

_Preconditioning?_ A horrible thought lit in Farid's mind. His eyes riveted to Desdane, who only regarded him with a small, gratified smile.

"You put the compulsion in me to come here." It wasn't a question.

Desdane's smile only widened. "Of course, boy; you wanted to kill me anyways. All that was required of me was to…fan the flame a bit."

"But not to present a chance of walking away."

The older sorcerer's face darkened. "No…we have your interfering relations to thank for that." He sounded annoyed, as if this 'interfering' was nothing more than a mild thorn in his side. He waved to the balcony closest to the rest of the Citadel.

Farid swallowed; two spectral vampires appeared. But of course, the sky overhead was a molten conglomeration of charcoal and brown clouds, broken here and there by rays of golden light piercing through; but not enough to keep the vampires at bay.

"Prepare the lower chamber," Desdane ordered, "we're going to drain the boy before his…entourage arrives."

Drain-magically drain. Farid's body went cold all over.

No…not again. He remembered the insanity that seized him just before he had blacked out the last time; the feeling of his mind completely shatter and the raw, beyond freezing terror that consumed him when he realized he was no longer in control of _anything_.

His chest constricted, making breathing painful. He tried to conceal his reaction, but apparently failed. He was slapped back into reality by Saleen's snicker. "Oh," she purred, "but I think he can _hardly_ wait."

He glared impaling death at her while struggling to not shiver. She only chuckled more.

Farid didn't notice Desdane's attention turn to something in the Citadel itself, as if he could see through the walls. "Entertain yourself, my dear," he absently said, "I'll return for the boy when they're ready."

The air around he and the spectral vampires shuddered and they were gone.

Saleen chuckled and with a gesture, conjured a pale turquoise sofa behind her which she lazily draped her body across and waved to his chains. They yanked Farid to her, she casually hooked a delicate finger into the one wrapped around his neck and pulled him very close to her.

"Naughty little wizard," she softly chided him; "you should have guessed that Desdane would gall you into attacking him alone…the blood ritual and all."

The worst part was she was right. Farid swallowed his pride though; he couldn't let her have the last word.

"I'm sure you enjoyed this," he sneered, "considering this time you had Desdane to _protect you_."

He was expecting another cuff from the mermaid, his insides twisted in worry when she only giggled, amused. She released the chain but it still held him where he was.

"Oh," she cooed, "but you won't snare me this time; you see, no matter what you say…your 'life' as you know it, is now over. No amount of that sharp tongue will change anything." She leaned back onto the curled edge of the lavish sofa, smiling wryly at him. "So, insult away, little wizard. They'll be your last."

The coldness intensified, biting his skin hard enough to hurt. Farid was careful to show no reaction, but his tongue was stilled. He had nothing to counter her with.

If Desdane took his magic again; the mouse wasn't here this time to heal him. He'd be naught but a shell…even though Desdane 'mercifully' had promised he'd be sane; it was hardly a consolation.

An eternity of being his slave…Farid lifted his eyes to the grinning mermaid, who decided it'd be fun to pet his hair.

And her slave too; she surely knew that already.

Her grin widened, as if reading his thoughts. She leaned closer, and when he tried to recoil, she waved at the chains, which constricted around him tight enough that he gasped in pain; another wave and they pulled him closer to her again.

"Now, now," she mock rebuked, waggling a finger at him, "trying to get away when I'm about to suggest a bargain to save you?" She pouted those rose colored lips again, and Farid could smell the lure. She was even wearing a different gown, he realized, a shimmering azure blue, aquamarine and pale cobalt material that moved like waves of water; the skirt opened in the front up to her knees and the hugged her torso snugly, the short sleeves dropping below the shoulder.

"You truly expect me to believe you?" he needed time; he had to keep her talking so he had a window to plan. Desdane was distracted and the vampires were…no.

He had to escape; there was no other option.

Saleen smirked, no doubt expecting that response and another tiny gesture and Farid was pulled close enough to the sofa that his front was pressing against its golden frame. Saleen idly made herself cozy, propping herself up with one arm while toying with his hair with the other. Farid was actually relieved that chains were immobilizing him; he so longed to smack her hand away and toss her back into the Otherworld, biding time or no.

Saleen smiled, apparently able to smell the rage coming off of him. "You really don't see the inevitable do you?" she mock lamented, letting her soft hand caress his face; Farid flinched but didn't react more. "Tell me, wizard, how do you intend to stop the most powerful sorcerer in the world? Hmmm; your tricks? He knows them all. Your cunning? You learned cunning from him. Magic? His magic overshadows yours."

Farid carefully withheld any emotion. Saleen snickered.

"Oh, but maybe you expect Aladdin to save the day…as he always has." She giggled petting his face. "But…not this time." She playfully brushed her lips against his and smiled at his bristling. "No; deep down you know this is the _end_. Desdane will win…and no one will be there to save you. After Desdane has this world under the heel of his boot, he'll remember you betrayed him. What do you think he'll do to punish you for it?"

Her snidely amused voice cut into Farid like a blade. Her eyes were so full of _knowing_, as if Desdane had already told her in detail how he planned on exacting his revenge; the frigid terror constricted his throat again. The magic drain, it would only be the beginning if they lost; seven thousand years would pass and Desdane would still not be through punishing him—he'd more likely make a daily hobby of it.

Against his will, Farid shivered.

"Oh," Saleen cooed, caressing his face as if to be consoling, "but, even if all is lost, it doesn't mean that there's no way to lessen what's coming."

The cold shudder suddenly seared him. "And, this is where you offer to 'save me'? And I'm to be fool enough to believe you?"

Saleen only looked humored at his spiteful tone. "After we win, Desdane and I will be united…forever. And that will make what is his…mine too."

An eternity of her; Farid swallowed the gall that rose in the back of his throat; his skin prickled in revulsion.

"But," she mock sweetly added, "that also means I'll be able to shield you, to intervene; after all, Desdane always gives me whatever I want," she smiled triumphantly, "he spoils me so."

"And in return," Farid sharply asked, "you want what?"

As if he had to ask.

She nestled their noses. "Use your imagination," she purred temptingly.

She brushed her lips against his again, an open invitation; and Farid took it.

He let her kiss him again, only to grab the underside of the sofa and flip it over!

Saleen wailed as she flew backwards, the elegant couch landing diagonally atop her.

Farid chuckled in satisfaction as she yelled incoherently, at least until the chains wrapped around his neck in a strangle hold; he couldn't breathe.

He dropped to the floor again; struggling desperately against the manacles…he heard the 'swish' of magic being used and the chains loosened just enough to allow tiny, shallow breaths in. He peered up—

Saleen's sofa was back to its original placing; she sat upon it now, her expression livid.

The chains dragged him back to her. She wound the fingers of one hand into his curls and pulled—hard.

He hissed at the pain. She drew their faces very close again.

"Of course, little wizard," she threatened, her voice deathly soft, "if you like, I could always persuade Desdane to make your torments even worse. He'll punish you enough to amuse himself…but since he gives me whatever I wish…perhaps what amuses him won't be enough to amuse me…perhaps I'll expect far more."

The icy tendrils crept into him again.

"And when the days become months, and turn into years…and then decades; _centuries_…and nothing _ever lessens the pain_," she took a deep, gratifying breath and her eyes bore into his, "and you face each day knowing no one is coming to save you…we'll see if maybe you take my offer then."

Her glower deepened at the flickers of defiance Farid knew she saw in his eyes.

He was caught off guard by the taunting smile that twisted her lips. "Well," she remarked casually, "perhaps I could make it even better still…by adding this." And she reached into her thick curls to reveal a small gem, an onyx stone, flawlessly cut and shimmering with old magic.

Farid gasped and then felt the chains loosen.

He recognized that magic: the spells used to extract…his lost memories.

She was holding them; Saleen was holding the gem Desdane had locked all of his lost memories within!

He made to lunge for them, but the mermaid recoiled away—and the chains even letting him breathe, still held him fast.

"Where did you find those?" he demanded harshly.

She only giggled. "Don't be angry with me, little wizard," she teased, "it's _your_ fault that I came upon them." She only smiled haughtily at his gaping expression. "Do you want to guess _where_ I found them?" she cooed vindictively.

A fool; he was such a fool. Of course! Where else could she have discovered them!?

"The Otherworld." He hadn't intended to let that come out as a moan, but it did.

Her lips twisted in that patronizing look again. "Your own fault," she repeated, "but…that doesn't mean I won't give them back."

He suspiciously glowered at her. That sing song tone could only mean she thought he was cornered.

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what she could do with her 'offer,' but his lips wouldn't form the scathing words he wanted to skewer her with.

He'd know; he'd be able to remember. And, did he truly, in his soul of souls, believe they had an actual chance of winning? Against Desdane?

And Empire, the Empire fought him and lost; his own apprentice, far more skilled than Farid himself defied him…and paid dearly for it.

He could still hear her screams, echoing in his thoughts.

Without realizing it, he bit his lip; Saleen stroked his face again, and pressed the gem into the palm of his flesh hand.

His insides wrenched; he had them! His memories, all of those lost parts of him, after all of those grueling years of fruitless searches…they were in his hand!

He knew the spell to open it; it rested on his lips, unbidden.

He would finally know who he used to be; he'd remember his parents.

To his amazement he wasn't even bothered at the idea of having more memories of Aladdin. His lips twisted at the irony.

"So, pet," Saleen clucked, "aren't you going to open it?"

He wanted to; oh, he longed, ached even to do just that. He'd only have to infuse that gem with his magic, say the word and then—

Infuse the gem with his magic; his stomach chilled and contracted when it hit him that he'd recently done that to another gem—

The Mystic Blue Diamond.

The mouse; if he agreed to this, he'd gain his memories but lose the mouse.

He'd recall his family, but lose them forever.

"Your offer is very appealing," he confessed, staring down at the stone.

"So…?" the mermaid prompted, "You agree then?"

Farid stalled one moment longer, and with all his might, threw the gem out of the Tower. His arms were pinned, so he yanked on his torso to give it momentum. His hopes turned to ash as he watched it glint so alluringly in the pale sun, and then it was gone, lost to the sands.

Saleen slapped him hard enough to throw him backwards. He lay, sprawled on the floor, as she stood, looming over him.

He was stunned into silence at how radically she had changed. No longer was she the naughty little temptress, her expression terrified enough to decay armies.

"Fine," she spat venomously, "we'll see how long you last…back in the torture chambers."

Farid kept himself immovable as footsteps sounded from the nearby stairs. He heard the sweeping of cloth as a toxically evil presence reentered the chamber.

"You look anything but entertained, my dear," he heard Desdane say coolly from the doorway.

He didn't look up to see Saleen's deadly smile. "I'm not," she icily pouted, "but…I will be."

Desdane chuckled. "True enough," was the satisfied reply, another ripple of cloth revealed that Desdane gestured to someone. Farid didn't have to see them; he could smell the rot of the spectral vampires. "Take him to the lower chamber."

But, even as he shuddered as the vile creatures seized his arms, a glint of light flickered suddenly in his mind. He heard Desdane; riveted his attention to the older man as he spun and turned to the balcony.

"Well, aren't we prompt," the older wizard drawled, another wave, "take him away."

"Pet? What is it?" the mermaid asked.

He gestured to Farid. "His 'allies' have arrived."

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**A/N: **Well, the war has started! I hope you enjoyed; plz leave a review! I am interested to know, is anyone out there wanting to see a sequel to this. I'm kinda gonna do a poll to see if I should or not. I'm still putting together a framework for the plot, I've got the bare bones for it and am filling in stuff, but if nobody wants to read a sequel, I'm not sure it'll be worth the work. So, please give me a yay or nay on a part 2, k!? Thanks!


	106. Chapter 106: The Glamour

**A/N: **Hello all; firstly I wanna give a HUGE thanks for waiting so long for this chapter! I know it's been way longer a wait than usual, but I'm happy to say that at last, I seem to be settled into 2 new jobs! The training and getting acclimated was a doozy, but things are working out well. Thankfully, I've got some time before college starts again, so plz say a prayer for me that I can get my $$ together in time for that, plus my truck needs new brakes; ugh, always something right? Anyhow, also, one of my readers, Pozagee, will be reading this fic on his/her? (sorry for not knowing!) YouTube channel, so I'm sure they'd appreciate you checking that out. It sounds like fun, I'm gonna see how it sounds audible, I hope you will too! Anyways, at long last…onward!

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_Aladdin & the Heirs of Magic Ch. 106: The Glamour_

Farid tried to struggle as the spectral vampires hauled him away; he wouldn't make draining his magic—again—easy. But, he couldn't help but still when a presence reached out for him:

The mouse; she was seeking him.

No! He pushed her away, desperately hoping no one sensed her. If Desdane found out….

He didn't dare look at either Desdane or the mermaid, so he didn't catch the narrowing of Saleen's eyes or the way she glanced out to the city below before following them.

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Aladdin gazed out over the Land of the Black Sand, hearing the sultan and other rulers passing orders to their captains and so on. Desdane's armies didn't waste time in appearing though.

Around the Citadel and on the outskirts of the city below, Al spied thousands of dark mages of varying species and garbs, the creatures who served Desdane and had returned, as well as hundreds of El' Khatib and skeletal beings—Aghoul's soldiers.

Al's eyes narrowed. It seemed far less than he had been expecting.

Something felt off.

His eyes darted to the Citadel—it had been greatly altered; now boasting far more windows, balconies and so forth. It appeared more a pleasure palace now than a military fortress, a strange move made by a sorcerer expecting war on his doorstep at any moment.

Cassim came up beside Al on his black steed. Seasoned eyes roved the cityscape.

"Not what I was expecting," he flatly appraised.

Al nodded. "I know; something's wrong."

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Farid yanked on the spectral immortals' grips as they dragged him to his fate. He pulled desperately at his tethered battle-magic, but while he could sense it striving to heed his call, it couldn't.

He reached out further, seeking out any magic he could call upon, and that's when he sensed it: them.

His eyes riveted out to the city below and wanted viciously berated himself for being so blind.

The entire city was draped in a monolithic 'sheet' of shimmering onyx-colored magic—

A glamour.

Farid gazed through the massive covering, which glinted silver and rippled as if constructed of magical black water and platinum mist; more than likely Saleen and Desdane's magic working together.

His body went limp with shock though when his dark eyes were met with what was concealed beneath the glamour.

No! Aladdin and the others were walking into a trap! Surely they'd never see it in time!

Instinctively, he reached out with his magic—but was once again met with a wall.

What was he going to do!?

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Jasmine had rushed off to speak to her father after scouts scanned the Land of the Black Sand's perimeter and returned with news that aside from the visible 'forces' Desdane's other rumored armies were not to be seen. Sadira and Genie and both probed with their magic and had detected nothing.

Al grimaced. When the bread seemed unguarded…you could be sure it was.

Abu chattered something about 'too easy' while perched on Al's shoulder. Al nodded.

It was; where were all of Desdane's fighters?

Jasmine sprinted up to them. "Aladdin," she said, catching her breath.

"Jaz," Al returned, holding her by the arms out of habit, "what did the sultan say?"

She shook her head and waved away the question, pulling something out of her cape.

Al started.

It was a sprite.

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Farid reached out one final time. It was risky, but there was one other means to warning the sultan and others:

His blood connection to Aladdin—amplified by Al's 'little secret.'

He repressed a sigh; he frantically hoped Desdane didn't sense this.

_Aladdin, _he called out.

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"…and we sabotaged all of Desdane's icky weapons," the sprite concluded proudly.

Al and Jaz looked at each other. This war was getting stranger by the moment. Apparently, Desdane had not been idle while they had gathered armies to battle him. The aged sorcerer had traveled the various worlds of his acquaintance, capturing old nemesis and locking them up in his deepest dungeons. Except, he'd not taken into account that Farid had unraveled all of the different spells required to open those formidable cells and turn his foes loose again—and had proceeded to do exactly that.

"But Farid was captured again?" Al worriedly asked the sprite.

She nodded sadly. "I not like Mozenrath, but…saw old wizard catch him again as I flew to find you." She sighed. "I couldn't help; I'm only one sprite," she half pled to them.

Jaz patted her head. "We know that, thank you for giving us the message." She pursed her lips in concern and glanced at Aladdin.

Al rubbed his brow. Farid's message had been brief and to the point:

_I'm going after Desdane. Do us all a favor Aladdin…_don't_ play hero this time._

Al sighed. In other words, his brother hadn't listened to a word he'd said and was still determined to face Desdane alone.

Well, nothing had changed on his end either; he was still going to make certain Farid didn't—

_Aladdin…._

It was Farid! He could hear the other, in his head! Al started and straightened up, reflexively grabbing Jaz's wrist and only half-hearing her question of 'what was it?' and 'was he all right?'

"Farid," he called aloud.

_Quiet! _ Was the snapped response, _Desdane has set a trap for you._

Aladdin's throat constricted. No; he shouldn't be surprised, Desdane had to have known they were coming.

He waited, that fluidic sensation in his head that reminded him of when Mozenrath had tried to steal his body and instead was trapped inside of him.

_Look through my eyes, _Farid directed, _there's a glamour in the kingdom—_

And Al could suddenly see it; he was standing someplace high up, the Citadel's main tower he realized. Far below, all through the city and surrounding area swarmed-oh no.

Aladdin swallowed hard.

"What is it, Aladdin?" Jasmine worriedly asked.

_This is what they've prepared for you, _his brother direly went on, _find someplace secure and strategize._

Aladdin didn't miss what Farid was omitting to say. He could sense that his brother was allowing him to share his body in a way—he didn't let himself think of the irony—and softly inquired, "Are you all right?" He could vaguely feel as if others were painfully gripping his arms and dragging him someplace.

_Don't distract yourself by thinking about me, _was the snapped retort.

"But"—

_No, no 'but,' _Farid cut in harshly, _now listen. There is one more thing you must know. Desdane has been collecting more relics during his supposed 'preparing' for this war. He has the most powerful gem in the known universe; it's called the Ruby of—_

And Al heard the distinct sound of a hard strike and his brother crying out.

"Farid!?" Al yelled at thin air, "Farid? Answer me!"

He could still, more weakly now, feel his brother's presence. But, then why was he not-?

_Ah, the great hero, we meet again._

The sinister voice seemed to be coming from all around Aladdin, as if every grain of ebony sand was snarling at him darkly.

"Desdane," Al whispered.

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**A/N: **Thanks again for waiting! I was going to make this longer, but wanted to be SURE I uploaded something today. Enjoy! R and R!


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